When In Rome
by Bobbie23
Summary: Set during Emily's time in Italy as she struggles to deal with the consequences of trying to fit in.
1. Chapter 1

Author Note – takes place in Italy when Emily discovered she was pregnant. Spoilers for Demonology. Some of you may remember Charles from my other stories, A Mother's Dream and You Can Never Go Home Again.

Disclaimer – I don't own, just borrowing.

When In Rome – chapter one

" _Sometimes I wish for falling  
Wish for the release  
Wish for falling through the air  
To give me some relief  
Because falling's not the problem  
When I'm falling I'm in peace  
It's only when I hit the ground  
It causes all the grief"  
― Florence Welch_

For the third day in a row Emily finds herself hunched over the toilet, trembling violently as she wretches into the bowl. Some of it splashes against the porcelain but most of it drops into the water. She coughs and splutters, hoping it's the last for today. Even though her experience is relatively limited, she knows this isn't an average hangover. They've been pushing their tolerance lately, partying harder, more frequently but she didn't even drink the night before when Matthew and Johnoffered her a swig from the bottle of whisky they managed to smuggle from Matthews' father's liquor cabinet. She doesn't even like the taste, just the buzz she has after the first two. She's barely able to control her gag reflex when the alcohol burns the back of her throat. If she hadn't been feeling so queasy, she would have helped them finish the bottle regardless.

Anything to fit in.

Her new motto and her determination to fulfil it annoyed her mother to no end, which suited Emily. Her mother carted her around from country to country, giving no regard to Emily trying to make friends and being the perpetual 'new girl'. They arrived in Italy a few months ago and she met Matthew and John during the welcome dinner Matthew's parents threw for her mother. Neither boy cared about the social formalities and they snagged a bottle of wine from the kitchen when no one was looking. As soon as they were safe in Matthew's room, John pulled a crude corkscrew from his pocket and opened the bottle. He took a swig, Matthew second, then they offered it to Emily. Hours later she giggled as she was escorted to her mothers' car, Matthew's parents staring on in disgust. They didn't say a word to admonish their son, clearly thinking she had orchestrated the whole thing. Obviously they hadn't caught him in the previous drinking sessions he and John boasted about. Like they didn't catch the funny face he pulled at her from over their shoulder, causing her giggle to evolve into a full blown belly laugh. Her mouth grumbled beside her, muttering about how a girl should act. Emily didn't care. She would handle the blame and reprimand that came with it because in a few short hours she'd made two friends quicker than she ever had before.

In the months that followed, she spent more time with the boys much to their parents' dismay. They could hardly do anything about it as they attended the same school. Emily enjoyed the attention John showed her and the friendly nudge of the shoulder Matthew gave her whenever he sat down beside her. Their friendship fascinated her. John was the more outgoing of the two, always looking for a better, more powerful high; he'd been dabbling for weeks now but neither Matthew nor Emily had succumbed yet. He could be loud and crass, more intense under the influence of whatever he had drunk or taken. Matthew could be too, especially when he was with John, but he was gentler, thoughtful and he could spout off any number of bible quotes when someone gave him a reference; John dubbed it his party trick. John was definitely the leader of their little group and Matthew often bore the brunt of his strict parents' wrath and he inevitably would be grounded for one of John's schemes, whose parents travelled more than her mother, like a few weeks ago when it left just her and John alone in John's room. She had been flattered when he made a move and her new motto had been loud in the back of her head as she returned his kiss; _anything to fit in._

Emily wipes her mouth with the back of her hand while blindly reaching for the flush with the other. The murky water swirls in the basin and is sucked down the drain, replaced by new, clean water. She stands on shaky legs; her hand covers her stomach as she worries she may hurl again. The moment passes and she moves to the sink to rinse her mouth out with water. She gurgles her mouth out three times and brushes her teeth twice and she still can't get rid of the taste. She knows bouts of nausea isn't normal and if her mother were here she'd already have a doctor's appointment. If the ambassador even noticed.

Emily exits her private bathroom and heads straight for her bed to gather her jumper and school bag. She secures the strap on her shoulder and folds the top over her arm. She straightens and stops when she notices the cookies on her nightstand, they weren't there before she dived into the bathroom and she never heard anyone come in when she was in bathroom. There's only one real suspect in her mind. Charles. He's the only who really gives a damn about her. Her mother is back in DC to rally support for a friend's new term in Office. Well that's what she told Emily. However, Emily knows she's probably finalising the divorce. Before she left, her mother was glued to the phone, taking call after call from the solicitors in DC, discussing 'terms'. She's due back next week. Not that it would make any difference, Elizabeth has taken to ignoring her till she steps out of line. That suits Emily, less scrutiny the better. Even Charles is letting her duck out without someone following her.

She doubts she'll keep anything down but the cookies look good. The last nanny told her a dry biscuit could settle her stomach if she felt queasy just before her period. It's about time, she's a week late and she's never had any problems with it before. She takes one and snaps it half, chewing as she makes her way out of her room.

The sugar hits her tongue and she feels marginally better as she pulls the door shut behind her. Turning right towards the stairs, she finds the head of her mother's security team. Her caretaker. Charles half turns and glances at her over his shoulder as he hears the click of her door. She bites the remaining half, refraining from verbal appreciation. She is supposed to be a moody teenager after all. With a smirk he falls into step behind her, like he does with her mother. They don't pass any other staff as they reach the foyer and trade places like they do every day. Charles opens the door and checks outside. Emily has long since learnt the cues to be aware of. If Charles stops, she stays behind him. If Charles keeps going, she follows close behind till they get to the car and he will open the rear passenger door for her.

Seconds later she slides into her seat, dumping her bag in the empty one beside her so she can rush out of the car when Charles pulls up in front of the school. He quickly takes his place behind the wheel, diagonally across from her. It was another thing he taught her, always have full view of the driver, no matter whose car she was in. She holds out the mixtape she slipped into her bag and he shakes his head.

"You know your mother's rules Emily," he chides as he revs the engine and steers the car down the driveway.

"Can't remember all of them but I'm sure cookies for breakfast isn't one of them," she shoots back as she slumps back and slides it back into the front pocket.

His eyes meet hers in the rear view mirror. "Thought they might help to settle your stomach, you've not kept much down lately."

Emily had no answer except to avert her eyes. Charles let her and drove on in silence for a few minutes. He stops at a junction and a piece of paper is thrown at her from the front seat. "Your mother will have a fit if you're ill when she comes home," is all he says as she unfolds it to find a doctor's name, address and a time.

"I don't need to see a doctor," Emily replies. She doesn't add that it's probably just a really bad hangover.

"Humour me, okay?" Charles tells her gently. "You can go on your own but I'll meet you after. Head there straight from school."

"You're letting me go by myself?"

"I can be there if you want me to," with those few words he offers her more support than either of her parents have for the last year. Her heart clenches painfully at the reminder and she feels like crying. Instead she curls her fist, the tips of her fingers dig into her palm. "I thought you might be more comfortable if I wasn't."

"I would, but my mother is going to be pissed at you if she finds out," she points out.

"I thought that would make it more appealing," he teases.

Emily smirks a little at the thought. "You won't ask any questions?"

"You're getting older, boundaries change, a little trust goes a long way," Charles says with a searching glance in the rear view mirror.

"You trust me?" His trust in her is difficult for her to accept given how many times she's snuck out of the house recently, duping him and his men. It wasn't the response she had on the tip of her tongue, he's taking a lot of liberties in her mother's absence, making decisions she knows her mother wouldn't allow and likely fire him for. Charles was one of Elizabeth's most trusted confidants and there's a good chance her mother is aware of everything that's happening in her absence. If she does, there's only a small chance her mother will confront her about it when she gets home. Emily appreciates it more than she can put into words, she doesn't really want another exhausting shouting match with her mother.

"I trust _you,"_ Charles agrees. Emily smiles slightly. "Your friends on the other hand…"

Her face drops and she goes on the defensive. "You like Matthew," she accuses as he pulls into the school grounds. She grips the strap of her bag, her other hand already reaching for the seatbelt.

"He's a good kid," Charles says keeping his tone neutral, refusing to be goaded into an argument. "John, however," he scoffs as he pulls to a stop behind another town car.

Emily rolls her eyes, not willing to listen to the observations Charles has, ones their parents have neglected. She saves him the tired spiel defending her other friend, not because it wouldn't do any good but because she knows Charles is just looking out for her. And if she weren't so desperate to feel accepted she might see the sense of it.

"If you trust me, trust me to choose my own friends," she says as pushes the door open and sweeps out of the car. She leaves the crumpled piece of paper on the seat and slams the door behind her without another word.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

Three hours later Emily slips out before even bothering with her third class of the day. She doesn't leave the grounds because the nausea is back and she finds solace sitting on one of the wooden benches in the corner of the school's small quadrant off of the main courtyard. Several windows overlooked the quiet area but it was mainly teachers' officers which were unoccupied at this time of day because they were teaching on the other side of the building.

One arm is curled around her stomach as she resists the urge to hurl over one of the low flower beds spaced around the area. Her eyes close and her lashes flutter against her skin as she breathes deeply. It subsides after several exhales but the contents of her stomach feels like it's going to try and make a break for it if she thinks about moving. She's not one to dramatize discomfort it's just been a long time since she's been ill. She thinks of the small discarded piece of paper she left in the back of the car. She remembered the information even if she had no intention of going. Her theory of this being just a hangover is all but obliterated by the somersaults her stomach is doing but she's still holding onto the hope that it's probably a bug which will pass in a few days.

Her head drops back to rest on the bench with a sigh, her eyes stay shut. There's no real pain just constant discomfort. A door creaks open at the other end of the quadrant and she barely cracks an eye when she hears familiar footsteps approaching. She isn't in the mood for company but a distraction holds a certain appeal so she holds her tongue. His footsteps are slow and measured and she lets him believe he's sneaking up on her while steadying herself for the impending ambush. It doesn't come. He stops a few feet away, close enough to see her scrunched forehead.

"What's wrong Em?" Matthew asks as he draws closer.

"I'm fine," she lies as she opens her eyes and forces a smile.

Her friend drops onto the bench beside her and nudges her shoulder with his. The familiar greeting brings forth a genuine smile and she sees it does little to appease him. He concentrates on her for a long beat and she knows he's seen through the façade that fools most people. "You're feeling sick again?"

She hasn't said anything about being ill but she's not surprised he's noticed. Of course he would. Matthew is at the top of most of their classes and she suspects he would still study as hard as he does even if his parents didn't insist on it.

"It'll pass," Emily insists weakly.

"It's been at least ten days," Matthew comments.

 _Trust him know exactly how long._

"How'd you know?"

"You haven't been yourself," Matthew tells her. "First I thought it was John being a jerk and going off with those other girls," he winces when she looks away. She was aware of the girls he was talking about; it didn't bother as much as it should. She just didn't think Matthew knew about her and John even if it only happened once. "But I've heard you throwing up a couple of times."

"I had too much to drink."

Matthew sighs and half turns to face her. "Normally I'd believe you, but you haven't been drinking as much as you usually do."

"It's still just a bug," Emily retorts as she avoids his eyes. "Charles made me an appointment with a doctor for after school," she admits.

"Knew there was a reason I liked the Henchman," Matthew says with a clap. Emily smiles in spite of herself. On the numerous occasions Emily slipped out of the house, Charles led the search himself. Unlike their parents, he spared no blame when he found them knowing the three of them were as guilty as each other.

"I'm not going."

"Why not?"

"What's he going to tell me that I don't already know? Rest, plenty of fluids, watch what I eat and drink?"

"You've being doing that but it's not working," Matthew tells her gently.

"I hate being sick," she grumbles, another wave of nausea over coming her. She winces and curls her arm around her torso.

"I can go with you if you're scared."

"I'm not scared," Emily argues back, her voice louder than before and he chuckles.

"You so are Em," Matthew tells her through his laughter. She pushes his shoulder lightly, making him snicker harder. His laughter is infectious and she manages a small smile and an eye roll in response.

"You can stop now," she tells him after a moment. Matthew composes quickly enough but he looks at her expectantly. She tuts lightly, he actually expects her to say the words. "Fine, I'll go."

His smile is wide and triumphant. They sit quietly for a long time and Emily relaxes back onto the bench, her arm sliding across her stomach once more. Occasionally Matthew lifts his cuff to check his watch. "You don't have to stay," Emily says after the third time.

Matthew frowns at her. "What?" She points at his watch and he looks down. "Oh. Oh, no, I have a free period but the bell's going to go soon and the rest of the school is going to move. I was wondering if you wanted to get out of here."

"You mean ditch?" Matthew nods and grabs the strap of his back pack. "Your parents will kill both of us."

"Probably," he agrees happily. "My point is we can't stay here forever. This little oasis is about to be invaded and you know our classmates are going to ask what's wrong. I mean, we can stay if you're okay with that."

Emily was already up and shouldering her bag, ignoring the ache. Matthew followed quickly as they rounded the corner to the larger recess area. They stick close to the wall which blocks the view from the windows so not to be seen by their teachers or any staff. "What's the plan?" Matthew asks.

"Slip over the wall and head into town?" Emily proposes and he nods when they reach the farthest corner from the school. Emily checks to be sure no one is following them when she catches his own look to the school. She's about to tell him they can head back when the bell rings loudly snapping them out of their spell. Matthew reacts first by throwing his bag over the wall and Emily copies before stepping onto his clasped hands in his silent offer of a boost. In seconds she's over the wall, landing on her feet with a soft thud. Matthew joins her and they pick up their bags.

A couple of hours later, Emily is curled up in a library chair reading _Mother Night_ for the second time this monthas Matthew sits at a nearby table studying for their math test in the morning. After arriving in town they quickly discovered their school uniforms drew more attention than either wanted to so they made their way to the library after Matthew brought some lunch for himself and a drink for her because she didn't feel up to eating. It went a long way to assuage her guilt over Matthew missing school to keep her company. While it's been quiet and uneventful, it's been a nice change from their usual exploits. And he never made fun of her for wanting to read all afternoon.

"Psst," her friend hisses in a loud whisper. She raises her head, her thumb curling into the page to keep her place. "What time is your appointment?"

"It's supposed to be at three thirty."

She doesn't need to look at the clock to see it's three o'clock. She makes a face when he starts packing away his things; he hadn't been the only keeping track of time. She had hoped he would forget. Without being prompted she pushes from the chair sluggishly to put the book back. When she returns, Matthew is leaning against the back of his chair waiting for her. Without a word she picks up her bag from where it is resting against the armchair and they walk out.

When they're outside Matthew touches her elbow. "It's going to be okay Em," he promises. "The doctor will give you some medicine and you'll be better before you know it."

She doesn't reply, only gives him a small scrunch of her nose and quick smile to show her appreciation before walking in the direction of the doctors' office.

….

An hour later she pushes Matthew out of her way as she runs from the surgery into the busy street. Her vision blurs as she turns sharply and runs up the street, taking the first left down an alley. Her feet carry her quickly as she hears her friend call out her name as he chases her, carrying their bags.

"Emily!" Matthew calls as she bumps into the wall.

She barely feels it as she pants, not from the running but from the sobs threatening to wrack her body. Unable to focus she pushes off the building, everything is so dark from the shadow cast over her by the tall buildings either side of the alley. She looks ahead and sees the light at the end. Tears stream down her face as she bolts. Her feet pound against the cobble stones.

"Emily! Stop!" Matthew tries again but she doesn't listen. She just needs to get out of here.

The buildings start to close in on her as her eyes swim in tears. Emily burst out onto the busy street, heads straight into the road without looking. A horn of the speeding car makes her stop and turn. She's rooted to the floor as she stares it down, welcoming the impending impact as she tries to stop the sobs. At the last second she screws her eyes shut and cries openly. The impact doesn't come as two forceful hands close around her arms and yank her backwards towards the alley. Matthew pulls her into the alley and she slumps against the building as the driver yells something in Italian from his open window and continues on his way.

"What's wrong Emily?" Matthew says as he discards their bags at her feet. She says nothing as she stares at the floor. Her breathing is out of control like her heartbeat, the surge of adrenaline still runs through her. "What did the doctor say?" He asks when he gets no answer.

Matthew barely manages to jumps out of the way as Emily falls forward, retching onto the street. She tries not to get him, but some bile splatter gets on his shoe. He notices but doesn't move except to pull her hair back from her face. It doesn't last long and soon she shrugs him off and wipes her mouth with the tissue he hands her. He doesn't repeat his question, doesn't ask why she was about to play _chicken_ with a car, just waits while she calms down. He gets her water out of her bag. She rinses and spits before slumping against the wall again. She swallows the next sip and wipes her cheeks with her sleeve.

"I'm pregnant," Emily whispers, the words taste bitter in her mouth. Her mother is going to kill her.

"What?" Matthew asks in disbelief. She can't believe it; she had been so stupid.

She's about to answer when Charles calls out from the other end of the alley, "Emily!"

They turn and stare at the man as he starts down the alley way. She wonders how much he's seen as he starts up the alley. Despite the potential fall out, she's glad he's here; he makes her feel safe. She shakes her head as she remembers how he spoke about trusting her this morning, she's definitely doesn't deserve it. His footsteps draw her out of her memories. His speed and stern expression spurs her into action. She looks at Matthew and knows he's still in shock from her announcement, she is too, but she doubts he'll be able to hold his tongue by the time Charles reaches them. She scoops up their bags and holds his out to him. He takes it blindly.

"I'll call you," Emily tells him as she walks backwards towards Charles.


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

Emily is out of the car before Charles can stop her. She runs into the house and moves quicker when she hears Charles get out. She's cleared the stairs and on the first floor landing before he enters the house. Without sparing him a glance she rushes into her room and slams the door behind her. She falls against the door and slides down it as the tears she barely held onto in the car ride begin to roll down her face. Her body sinks into itself as her arms wrap around her knees. She hiccups and covers her mouth as it evolves into a sob. They don't stop. She starts to rock with the intensity and she has to bite into her hand. She welcomes the pain, her teeth sink deeper in to the flesh between her thumb and index. The sharp piercing pain spreads through her arm into her chest. It's something tangible to focus on other than thinking about the doctor's words. Since she was little, her mother made a point of teaching her languages in preparation of moving to different countries. Besides French, Italian had been one of the easier languages for her to grasp but even she couldn't help thinking she'd miss heard when he told her.

" _Proprio di precauzione," (Just precautionary) he says knowingly as he handed her the test as she again tried to convince him there wasn't a chance. She could've asked for a feamle doctor but it wouldn't have made any difference, doesn't matter to her as long as they're both as competent. A female doctor would've asked the same thing, it was a standard question. It wouldn't have been easier to answer. Unlike Emily, he had experience in this area. She isn't so sheltered that she didn't know about teenage pregnancies, but the doctor has more knowledge than she does. He asked as a precaution and she vehemently shook her head, not quite comprehending why. She took the question personally. It was personal. She'd been with Johnny weeks before. Only him. She wasn't Johnny's_ only _._ _Johnny may switch from girl to girl quickly but he wasn't one to brag about it._ _She wasn't ready to admit it out loud, let alone to a stranger._

 _Minutes later his mouth formed a thin line of disappointment as he checks the test for her. He barely tries to mask his judgement, or maybe she's projecting her own as she cowers back in her chair. "Sei incinta," (You're pregnant)._

 _She shakes her head, he's wrong, she won't accept it. She opens her mouth to tell him just that but the words get stuck in her throat. Her mouth closes and tears spring to her eyes. Tremors start in her hand and travel up her arm, through her shoulder to her throat and she can hear it in her words as she finds her voice. "Si può farlo di nuovo?" (Can you do it again?)_

For a split second Emily had thought he would refuse her. He hadn't and gave her the same result. He never gave her the chance to ask him to do it a third time, just talked through her options. He gave her the facts on all options she had. He never assumed and didn't push one on her. She has no idea what's right, what she should do. She refused the leaflets he offered her because she couldn't take it any information in beyond informing a guardian because of her age, she needed signed consent to continue.

The sound of the door knocking on the frame caused by her rocking body makes her head snap up. She doesn't need to attract any more attention than she already has. She pushes up from the floor and goes to the window and throws it open. She leans out and breathes deeply, her hands brace on the windowsill, as the smell of the roses drift up to assault her senses. A few inhales don't ease her aching heart or her trembling body but the air dries her tears. Her head hangs down and her eyes focus on the paving slabs beyond the rose bushes in the flower bed beneath the window of the room below hers, her mother's study. She screws her eyes shut, she doesn't really want to think of her mother right now. The Ambassador was going to be furious. And disappointed.

She feels dizzy and pulls herself back from the window with a sigh. She bumps the bedside table with her hip and she steadies it with a hand. The plate of cookies Charles put there this morning is still there. They're stale now. Her eyes water again. Her mother isn't the only one who will be furious. His words of trust now more a condemnation rather than the confidence boost it had been at the time.

He never said a word after he ushered her into the car. She never looked at him, not even in the rear view mirror. She didn't have to. The tension rolling off both of them was stiffling. She doesn't know what Charles heard or how much he saw when he found her with Matthew in the alley. Then there was Matthew. Her friend who skipped school just to take her to the doctor because he cares about her. He expects her to call, expects her to talk to him. She owes him that. She doesn't know if she has the strength to do that or the will to talk to Johnny. For some reason she knows it'll be easier to talk to Johnny than Matthew. His opinion doesn't mean as much to her after today.

They have nothing to offer a child. _She_ has nothing to offer a child. In any scenario she's thought about, Johnny's not involved. In her head she knows there's only one real option. The idea doesn't sit well with her though. This, nothing more than a seed, is a part of her.

Emily sinks onto her bed, her hands instinctively go to her stomach. She still feels sick and isn't sure if it's because of the doctors' revelations or the morning sickness. Probably a combination of both. Emily imagined having children when she was older, not before she had a chance to live. She never thought it would be like this. She always envisioned having a career then being a position where she could step back and dedicate the time a child deserved when the time was right, her child would be the priority she never was to her parents. And she would always be home in time to read bedtime stories. She enjoyed listening to fairytales when her mother or father read them to her but she never lost herself in them. She was right not to. This is a far cry from fairytales.

A single knock cuts through the quiet room as a knuckle bounces off her door. It's hard and loud, expectant. She wonders what took Charles so long. For a second she considers ignoring him but that would make it worse. He'd insist or call her mother. Then Elizabeth would cut her visit short, possibly delay the divorce, and she'd hone in on Emily till she explained why she holed herself up in her bedroom.

"Come in," Emily calls shakily and twists on the bed to face away from the door.

Charles steps in carrying a glass of juice and a sandwich. She's touched but her stomach turns at the gesture, there's no way she'd keep either down. He moves to her bedside table and places them beside the plate of cookies, never looking at her or trying to force eye contact.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks gently.

"No," Emily tells him. Her curiosity, her need, to get a better read on him overcomes her fear of exposing herself or her secrets and she turns back to face him to find him looking at her with sympathy and compassion. He sits in the chair next to the bathroom and waits, obviously not letting her get away with her refusal. She doesn't think he'd force her to talk, but she feels an obligation to. "I...I don't...," she stammers.

"Did Matthew hurt you?"

"What? No!" Emily exclaims defensively.

"Really? Because what I walked in on-."

"He would never hurt me," Emily tells him. "I went to cross the street without looking and he pulled me back because a car was coming." The lies which stem from the truth are always easier. It's easier to omit details rather than change them. "I was more annoyed at myself for being disorientated than at him. He was trying to help."

Charles doesn't buy it, that much she can tell. He sits rigid in the chair, his unblinking stare fixed on her as he waits for her to elaborate. His posture may seem intimidating to others but she knows that's not his intention, his concern shines in his eyes in the way she wished her father's would. She looks down as she swallows the lump in her throat, clasping her hands over her torso. She lifts her head again. "This morning you said you trusted me, do you still trust me?"

"I do," Charles nods earnestly.

"Can I trust you?"

The question reveals more than she wants it to and it'll pique his curiosity more than it already is. On cue his eyebrow cocks but he doesn't push. "You can."

"Not to tell my mother?" Emily pushes. The eyebrow levels out and he looks away to the window. At least he's not lying to her. Her heart sinks. "That's what I thought," she says evenly.

"Emily," Charles objects rising from the chair to pace like she had minutes ago. She wants to believe the words she knows he's about to say. "Whatever the doctor said, your mother will support you."

"Not with this," she tells him with a shake of her head though she wishes she were as confident in her mother as he sounds. Charles stops and stares at her for long moment, battling with the urge to refute and trying to figure out what she refuses to tell him. It wouldn't be hard to fit the pieces together, Charles isn't stupid. She cares about his opinion of her and doesn't want him to look at her differently after this. "Please don't try to figure it out. I need to do that for myself," Emily all but begs. "Trust me to tell you if I need to. I just can't, not now, not yet," she explains to stop him from asking anything else.

"Your mother asked me to look after you," Charles tells her, his guilt for failing her mother clear. "I failed you both."

"I messed up, not you," she's quick to assure him. "Part of growing up, right?" She tries to smile, pass it off as a joke but he stares through it.

Finally realising he wasn't going to convince her otherwise, Charles nods wearily. "I'm here Emily," he promises.

"I know," Emily nods. "I just need you to trust me."

He's not comfortable with her request because he sees it as abandoning her in a time of need. For her, it's the opposite. She hopes his consession will give her the strength she needs to make the right decisions in the coming days. "Emily," Charles repeats about to refuse her but stops at the resolute shake of her head. "I don't...Okay," he agrees reluctantly. He looks around the room, stopping at the open window. He frowns and moves to close it. His hands brace the window sill as he hunches over with a sigh.

His loss of composure isn't comforting even when he doesn't know everything or maybe she's more transparent than she thinks, after all there can't be that many reasons she would be upset after a doctors appointment if it wasn't because of an argument with a friend. He could force her to tell him but he won't because that wouldn't instill her trust in him. Eventually Charles turns and picks up the plate of cookies. "Eat your sandwich," he advises as he leaves the room, bestowing her with another long gaze till she obliges him by lifting the juice and sipping it. The lingering taste of bile mingles with the orange and she forces herself not to retch again. The door clicks shut behind Charles.

Emily may be young and made some stupid decisions lately, but she knows this isn't the end of it. She isn't naive enough to think Charles will let this go lightly or at all. She confirms this hours later when she opens her window again, her bag on her back as she rests one foot on the window sill, ready to climb out when she sees the guards pacing the section of the back wall she usually climbs over to escape the grounds. No one sees her as she drops her foot back into her room and shuts the window. She wanted to talk to Matthew face to face but it won't happen tonight. Her bag falls to the floor and she quietly gets ready for bed.

Sleep doesn't come and she lies there staing at the ceiling through the night watching the shadows move around the room with the moonlight. Several times in the night her hands find her stomach, it had been comforting during the nausea, now it's to feel if anything is different. It's stupid as she realises there's nothing physically different except the pang of an empty stomach and the ache of muscles she strained when she was sick, but _she_ feels different inside. Numb. Either that or too overwhelmed by emotions to react. She puts the detachment down to shock, it happened when she lost her grandfather a few years ago. She's held onto it since she told Matthew she was pregnant as it gives her something to hide behind, it's gotten her through the past few hours. Only now she doesn't have the strength to keep up the façade. Beneath the carefully schooled front, she's frightened and angry with herself and has no idea what to do or how to do it. She curls onto her side, her hands slide to her side as the tears begin to seep from her eyes.

 **Thanks to everyone sticking with me here, especially those who took the time to review. Any thoughts? Please don't hesitate to let me know either by with a public review or PM. Also I apologise if any Italian is wrong, I don't speak the language and used Google translate for the words in brackets so I hope they're correct.**


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

Matthew is waiting for her when Charles pulls the car to a stop at the front gate of their school. She ignores the undeserved glare Charles directs at her friend. The head of security hasn't spoken to her since the night before. That was a mutual decision because she hadn't spoken to anyone either. She hadn't slept a wink and then spent most of the time before leaving for school hunched over the toilet. The car journey had been strained and she sat in the backseat, directing her vacant stare at the passing scenery without seeing it. Emily leaves the car without breaking the silence.

After thinking about it all night, her head wasn't much clearer though one thought kept coming to her; she couldn't provide for this child, not just in the financial sense, but emotionally or provide any stability. Though Emily was confident her mother would probably come around eventually, after the anger and disappointment wore off, it didn't change the fact that she was still a child and she couldn't take of herself much less a baby. She had two options, adoption or abortion. Neither option sat well her. She couldn't see herself going through with the pregnancy and then giving the child up, she would grow too attached. But she wasn't sure she could go through an abortion either. She wished she had accepted the leaflets the doctor offered her the day before, if only to have more information on the procedures, maybe then she would feel prepared to speak to someone else about the situation.

She approaches the steps where Matthew is waiting, stopping when she realises she hasn't heard Charles pull away like he usually does when she's inside the gates. Looking over her shoulder she sees him waiting at the curb watching them. He has good reason to watch Emily, she's his charge, but Matthew doesn't deserve the scrutiny, he's done nothing wrong. She gives a resigned sigh, only the truth would curb Charles' protective streak. Although the truth would make him more protective than he already is. She approaches Matthew and gives him a small nod and he falls in beside her, aware of Charles observation. The obligatory shoulder bump happens moments later, only it doesn't feel as affirming as usual. She still acknowledges it with a tiny lift of her lips but doesn't let it reach her eyes. Meeting Matthew's eyes for the first time she notices the red tinge around the edges, remembers it from when she stared into her mirror earlier. He hasn't slept either and she knows it's because he's worried about her.

"How are you feeling?" He asks under his breath as they move through the throng of classmates, unheard by any of them as they're caught up in their own conversations.

"Like I've got the hangover from hell," she quips with false ease. His fingers touch her elbow and she jerks away and widens the gap between them, ignoring the kicked puppy look on his face. "We can't talk here," she whispers, pinning him with a pointed glare. A few heads had started to turn as she shook him off. She thinks about walking off but doesn't want to cause more of a scene than they already have.

She sidesteps a younger kid who attempts to rifle through his bag as he's walking. Emily and Matthew make it three feet when he loses grip and the bag falls to the floor, the contents spilling everywhere. Emily glances behind her at the snickers coming from the other pupils and turns into a crouch to help the kid shove his belongings back into his bag. He mumbles his thanks, the pink blush rising above his collar as he scrambles to his first class. Emily straightens her skirt as she rises and turns back to see Matthew waiting for her, leaning against the door jamb of an empty classroom.

She slips in past him and he turns on his heel to follow, closing the door behind him as Emily walks toward the corner unseen by anyone who might look through the doors' glass panel. When she settles against one of the desks, her bag falls to the floor. Matthew leans against the chair of the desk in front of her with a heavy sigh. Finally, she's able to take a good look at him, his sombre expression. Matthew shouldn't be losing sleep over her.

"Did you talk to Charles?" He asks.

"He'd tell my mother," Emily replies with a shake of her head.

"Maybe you should," Matthew tells her gently.

"She'd go mad," she breathes out, shaking her head again.

"Probably, but you shouldn't go through this on your own."

All of the anger which had been building since her mother left for the States more than a week ago, since she learnt of her pregnancy, rises up and the words tumble from her mouth before she can stop them. "What am I supposed to do? Call my mom while she's signing the divorce papers and ask her to come home because I'm pregnant? She'd drag me out of Rome so she wouldn't be embarrassed in front of her colleagues by her pregnant teenager. I'd never see you again."

She wished she was exaggerating, but it was more likely than her mother embracing her situation. While her mother could be more understanding and accepting of single mothers, her colleagues weren't, Matthew's parents included. Elizabeth wouldn't be able to handle the effect of the rumours on her career especially so soon after the divorce. She would move away from the scandal, taking Emily with her. Emily isn't going to risk losing the best friend she's ever had.

If Matthew is phased by her outburst, he doesn't show it. "What about the guy who…?" He gestures at her instead of finishing his question.

"Not interested," she says stubbornly folding her arms over her midsection. She's protecting Matthew rather than Johnny by holding her tongue, she doesn't want to destroy his impression of his best friend. Matthew isn't an idiot and probably knows but like her doesn't want to verbalise it. "Neither of us can take care of a baby."

She doubted Johnny would be interested if she told him, if she did he'd probably insist she get rid of it. Their friend had changed a lot since he began partying harder, a shorter temper and slightly more aggressive than he was before. When he was high, Johnny could be the life of the party but the come down turned him into a jerk, full of bravado and aiming barbs at those around him when he feeling particularly down. A few choice words wouldn't stop her from being his friend. Neither would the pregnancy, though Emily doubts she will garner the confidence to share this burden with him. In her mind, he doesn't need to know if she goes through with the abortion.

"He should know Em, what if this happens with another girl?" Her eyes snap up and hold his for a long moment. Matthew had a point. And then she's ashamed of her thoughts seconds before. The implications didn't just affect their circle, but there was a chance this could happen with others. She nods her agreement. She'll talk to Johnny. "What are you going to do?" He asks after a moment.

"I know I can't keep it," she says with more confidence than she feels. "Would you think I'm a bad person if I…?" Now she's unable to say it. ' _Great'_ , she thinks. How would she ever be able to go through with it if she can't say it?

"I wouldn't, Em," Matthew promises pushing off the chair, his hand touches her arm. She tenses when she feels him try to pull him to her. He stops immediately without stepping back. His proximity is too much for her as her eyes begin to water again.

"How can you say that when you believe it's a sin?" Matthew shrugs without pausing to mull it over.

"Because you're right, you're not prepared to have a baby. That doesn't mean you're a bad person Em, you made a mistake and what you're putting yourself through is more than enough to atone for it."

"I'm so scared I can't go through with it," she rasps. Her hands burrow into the sleeves of her sweater, drawing them tight over her fingers. She keeps her eyes cast downward, not wanting to see the pity she knows Matthew is looking at her with.

"I'll go with you," Matthew declares rather than offers.

"You don't have to, this isn't your problem," Emily groans.

"You are," Matthew argues with a gentle laugh. "I'm your friend and I'm not going to let you do this alone."

"It's not just that," she starts. "I don't know, I don't…it's a baby…am I being selfish, not giving it a chance?"

This time Matthew falters and sits back on the desk and she's pretty certain he's only done it so he can force her to meet his gaze. "I was thinking about it all night; you could give your baby up for adoption, but I kept focusing on the fact that it's _your_ baby. You'd always be worrying whether they were really better off without you, whether they were loved by their adoptive parents as much or more than you love them. You may pretend not to care, but you do Em and that curiosity would be more painful than an abortion."

She looks to the floor, imagining the scenario in her head. He's right. There wouldn't be a day go by where she didn't wonder. Maybe one day, that curiosity would lead her to seek out the child and their new family only for them to reject her. She wouldn't be able to feel the child grow within her, become attached to them only to give them away.

"I don't know what to do," she means it figuratively and literally. She looks at Matthew curiously, wondering if she will ever have the chance to do for him what he's doing for her. She doubts he will fuck up like she has but she vows to be there for him if it happens. He's a good guy though she knows he has his fair share of problems with his overbearing, religious parents. He's never divulged any of it to Emily, though she's witnessed many dressing downs issued by both his parents in the few short months they've known each other, most of them about his friendship with her. "Who do you talk to about stuff like this?" Then she frowns at her words as Matthew raises an eyebrow at her. "You know what I mean," she grumbles.

It's never occurred to her before, he lets her and Johnny vent about their lives yet reveals little of his own beyond their social circle. He shrugs again, looking at the ground. "It sounds strange but I talk to my priest."

"No, it doesn't," Emily immediately reassures. Matthew just smirks at the quiver in her voice. "Okay, may be a little," she relents. She knew he attended Mass every Sunday at his parents' insistence, she went when her mother was in the country, but she never realised he would confide in his priest. "You don't talk about it."

"About being a teenager who enjoys going to church?" He quips good naturedly. "Doesn't really go over well with our crowd. Don't want to push anyone away because they think I'll snitch to the priest during confession." He pauses, a dark look clouding his face. "I'm not too fond of sermons, but Father Gamino is open to a debate when others are too small minded to indulge youthful questioning," he finishes with a small flourish of a smile and Emily humours him with a smile. She's seen him push the older conservative members of the congregation just to rile his parents, which was why she was so surprised by his admission.

"He is a good listener too," Matthew adds pointedly and Emily cringes. "You won't talk to Charles, you definitely won't talk to your mother, I don't know what else to suggest Em. Look, I have no idea what you're going through, I don't know what to tell you or how to advise you. I wish I could but I can't."

"Do you think he'll help?"

"I don't know, I can't guarantee you'll like what he says but talking to someone who isn't close to you may help clear your mind, help you decide."

"I already decided," she whispers.

"You need to go back to the doctor," Matthew says and she refuses to interpret the sad tone as anything other than pity. Emily shakes her head.

"They can't do anything without parental consent."

Before Matthew can respond, the door bursts open bouncing off the wall behind it with a bang.

"Busted," he crows, his arms spreading wide as he smirks at them. Emily rolls her eyes at his theatrics, not as amused as she would have been weeks before. Matthew, however, indulges him with a laugh. Johnny doesn't wait for an invitation as he throws his bag onto a nearby desk and climbing onto the one next Matthew, his feet on the chair. "Not interrupting, am I?" He asks looking between them.

By the levity dancing in his eyes, Emily knows he doesn't expect the awkward, split second look Matthew gives her, looking for her direction, lingering on her a fraction longer than necessary. Johnny straightens a little, sobering suspiciously at the delayed, uncharacteristic behaviour. "We're avoiding the math test," Emily answers. "I haven't studied."

Johnny accepts it though she can see the doubt in his face. "Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know about a party this Saturday. You in?"

Matthew snaps out of his reverie and accepts, looking to Emily to do the same. "Uh, maybe, if I can slip out. Charles grounded me till my mother comes back from the States."

"What'd you do for the henchman to put you on lockdown?" Johnny laughs.

Emily plays into his jokey mood. "He caught me trying to sneak out," she lies smoothly with a small laugh.

Matthew raises his eye brows, choking out a forced laugh at the lie as he gathers his bag. Emily follows his lead, not wanting to be left alone with Johnny. Matthew meets her eyes quickly, pointedly with a barely discernible shake of his head as he moves to the door in seconds, announcing, "I've got to get a book from my locker before class, I'll meet you there."

With that he's gone. And Emily can't help but feel his abandonment even if this conversation should be between her and Johnny, who was frowning at his best friend's retreating form. A heavy silence follows the door clicking shut. They hadn't been alone since that night and Emily feels out of place not just because of the consequences.

"Did you tell him what happened?" Johnny asks breaking the quiet.

"No," Emily says with little confidence; he's guessed, she's never explicitly told him and never will.

Johnny looks doubtful but doesn't push further. Small victories. "Are you and he…?"

Maybe not. "No," she repeats. She can't help substituting Matthew into this scenario and thinking it would be easier to tell him about this if the baby were his rather than Johnny's.

"Really? Because if you are, I'm sorry-." Emily shakes her head, cutting him off.

"No, we're not," she tells him sadly.

"So, are we good? Because it feels like you're avoiding me."

She wasn't, before, not intentionally anyway. There had always been others around, then he started hanging out with other girls at parties. While she wasn't bothered by that, she wasn't avoiding him because of it. Their lack of interaction was pure coincidence than deliberate. "I'm not, but there's something you should know."

Johnny looks at her with interest. "What?" He asks curiously.

Emily takes a deep breath and closes her mind to all of his possible reactions as she speaks. "I'm pregnant."

Laughter was the last thing she was expected. She stares at him as he laughs heartedly until he slowly stops, realising she isn't laughing with him. "Good one," he exclaims and she doesn't respond.

"I'm not joking Johnny." She wishes she were.

He pauses for a second. "It's not mine, it can't be," he says in disbelief, more to himself than Emily.

"You're the only person I've been with," she argues trying to keep calm in spite of the vehement shaking of his head.

"How do _I_ know that?" He asks loudly, dropping down from the desk, his movements brash as he slings his bag over his back. "For all I know that's what you're telling Matt, too."

His words hurt more than she'll admit. "I would never do that," she grinds out, her patience wearing thin with his attitude. "It's yours."

"No," he refuses, raising his voice and backing away from her. "You're lying."

"I'm not, Johnny. Look," she sighs. "I'm not telling because I expect anything from you, I don't want anything from you. I'm not having the baby." His brow furrows as she continues. "Believe me or not, neither of us wants this. And I'm only telling you because I don't want you to make this mistake with someone else."

"So, you're jealous?" He asks incredulously. She rolls her eyes.

"Would you just get over yourself for a second? I'm not interested in you like that," she insists. "But I'm not the only girl you've been with and I'm not your latest either. I'm not trying to tell you to stop sleeping with other girls, Johnny, just use protection so it doesn't happen again." Her words finally make him stop and she takes the opportunity to grab her things and run out of the door.

 **Author Note – Thank you all for reading, this one may take a while with irregular updates but I'm not going to give this one up as it's important to me. If you have any thoughts, please let me know. If you don't want to leave a public comment, my PM's are open.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author Note – I researched as much as I could about confession, my mother was Catholic, I'm not, nor was I raised as one and she passed before I could decide. If any of you are Catholic, be assured I don't mean to offend if I've made errors. A huge thank you to those who reviewed, I do enjoy reading your thoughts. Also to those who added the story to their favourite and follow lists. If you have a few moments, let me know what you think. If you don't want to leave a public comment, send me a PM.**

Part Five

Her nose twitches as the warm smell of melting wax and incense wafts over her, distracting her from the cool breeze flowing through the drafty church. She ignores the rough, uncomfortable wooden bench beneath her as she waits for Matthew to take his turn in confession. Whispers compete with heels clicking against the stone floor for her attention. She tries not to flinch with each new sound, each new set of footsteps, especially when they getting too close. There are more than she expected for the middle of a weekday afternoon, she's only attended on Sundays when the pews were packed and it took ages to find a seat. Now she sits just outside of the sun beam bursting through one of the huge ornate stain glass windows, hiding in the overcast area outside of the confessional. The shadows seem appropriate even if she refuses to open her eyes, enjoys the anonymity it offers her. If she doesn't know who sees her, she won't know who she has to avoid.

Her mother brought her to church when she was home, following local customs than out of faith as they had in other countries, and she never insisted Emily adhere to its' rules. Though many of her social circle were Catholic and she was raised one, Elizabeth thought Emily should decide her own faith and wanted to give her the chance experience as many as possible when travelling. So while she's been exposed to many religions, Emily's never been to confession before and the experience is completely new to her. She understands to the principles but she never imagined it to be so overwhelming.

She hears shuffling followed by the the soft scrapping of the creaking wooden door of the confessional open. Seconds later Matthew brushes against her, sitting on the pew with a quiet sigh. He bumps her shoulder once, then again when she doesn't open her eyes to acknowledge the friendly, now reassuring gesture. Then she feels his hand slip over hers clasped in her lap, squeezing gently. She exhales lightly, it's almost too much for her. It's rare for anyone to comfort her, rarer for it to be physically expressed, rarer still for her to allow it.

"You don't have to go in," Matthew tells her gently.

"Give me a minute, 'kay?"

"Take all the time you need," comes his answer.

Matthew met her after their last class and they came straight to the church, few words passing between them. Neither of them mentioned her conversation with Johnny, nor had they hadn't seen him since either. Some of their other friends mentioned him slipping off the grounds before their first class. Emily tried to ignore the rejection and hopes Johnny doesn't hold Matthew's continued comfort against him, but she thought of little else throughout the day though she successfully hid it from her teachers. She's not sure how – she's been distracted all day and can't remember anything they covered in lessons but dragged herself through the corridors so not to attract unwanted attention for missing classes two days in a row. She thought one of them would notice or maybe she was hyper-aware.

She draws in a shaky breath and finally opens her eyes, instantly looking to the grand oak arc over the cubicle which will offer her the only sense of privacy she will have once she enters the confessional. The daunting cubicle looms over everything, drawing attention to those who fail rather than hide them. She's never been to confession before, though she knows what to expect. She wishes she had because for the first sin to confess, pre-marital sex and abortion are extreme by her standards. The situation seems all the more daunting because this man is an important role model for Matthew and she didn't want to say or do anything to affect that. In her mind, it's an insurmountable task and the urge to flee is strong. If she stands now, she'll walk out.

She casts a glance at Matthew, eyes shut, head bowed toward his lap. His lips move with no sound, or maybe there and she can't hear through her daydream. She can't help but watch his silent prayer, his peaceful expression. Her hand still under his, strong yet gentle and warm. She wonders, as she has several times in the last forty-eight hours, what she's done to garner his support. She wishes she had his faith in her. His fingers fold over hers, squeezing gently as if sensing her scrutiny. They start to relax but she catches them between her thumb and index, holding them tightly. His eyes slide open slowly, chin tilting toward her, he meets her eyes and smiles softly. His eyes flicker toward the confessional, his silent question breaking the spell. She nods then stands on shaking legs. She steadies herself and resolutely pulls her fingers from Matthew's as her gaze falls on the altar. Instead of hesitating, she pushes forward and slips past her friend and from the row.

Emily approaches the dark cubicle, ignores her twitching hands as she reaches it. Stepping inside she focuses on the darkness rather than the open arc and anyone who may pass. A sliver of light emanates from the seam in the corner where the wood had buckled on an uneven join, dust floats in the sliver and she follows the specks till they descend back into the darkness. She sniffs and the musty smell fills her senses, her nose wrinkling. Her ears pick up the priest shuffling quietly in the neighbouring cubicle and in the dank light she feels with her foot for the step for her to kneel upon. Finding it she drops down, wincing as her knees meet the jarring cold, hard concrete she accepts the pain which accompanies it. Moments later she the partition scrapes open, exposing the lattice which separates her from the priest.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned."

"How long since your last confession?"

"This is my first confession," Emily replies.

"Is this your first sin?" The priest sounds mildly amused and Emily frowns, thinking she is probably a joke to him and not quite sure how to respond so she tells him the truth.

"No," Emily replies.

"Then why confess this one?"

"Because I'm sorry for what I have done, what I'll do," she says honestly. "Because I want your advice."

A quiet exhale filters through the lattice screen, not bored or weary. "What have you done?"

Emily sighs. "I slept with a friend."

"And you don't intend to marry this friend?"

"No," she almost laughs at the absurd thought and sobers quickly at the quiet tut admonishing her. "I care for him as a friend, nothing more."

"Does he care for you?"

"As a friend, nothing more," she repeats, less sure. Johnny probably didn't think of her as a friend anymore, let alone anything else; and there were no misconceptions or any words she could misconstrue when they were together. "For this I am truly sorry."

"Why were you with him if he is only a friend?"

"I have travelled for most of my life and it's hard continuously making new friends. I wanted him to accept me."

"People can't accept you till you accept yourself."

Emily frowns as she hears the certainty, the knowledge in his voice. She won't admit he is probably right; she has a habit of questioning everything and more stubborn than defiant, she hasn't figured it out for herself yet and the last few days has given her more questions. Unable to see the priests' face, doubt fills her mind. She learnt to read people and situations a long time ago, a skill her mother taught her, Charles too when it came to their safety. She thinks this could have been easier if this were face to face rather in his office than a dark cubicle. But she wouldn't trust herself to be honest in that situation, wouldn't be able to stope herself from hiding behind a mask. The dark offers her a veil anonymity and gives her permission to be honest and this is what she needs most. She twists her neck toward the panel between her and the priest as she realises he hasn't offered her advice or instruction for penance.

"Father?" She prompts.

"Forgive me, you also mentioned things you were going to do. I can't offer advice till I am given all the details."

She swallows thickly, her throat constricting around the lump as it travels down her throat. Her mouth is dry, her tongue darts to moisten her lips but it's for naught. "I'm pregnant."

Another heavy pause follows her croaked admission. This time the disapproving sigh isn't disguised as a quiet exhale. She lifts her head and stares straight ahead, as if it will give her courage for the last part of her confession.

"And I plan to terminate the pregnancy," she pushes out before he can speak. She does all she can not to sound challenging.

He shuffles and wood scrapes across the floor as he does. Gamino mutters to himself, irritated and weary. Emily prepares herself for his response.

"What you speak of is a mortal sin Child, and you have yet to perform it. I urge you to reconsider, not to act. Give your child a chance at the life it has a right to."

"I can't," she pleads with a whisper. She closes her eyes and tries to ignore the anguished plea in his voice.

"Why?" His response interested yet cold. Matthew seeks this man's counsel, trusts it, accepts it. She doubts he's ever done anything serious enough to warrant the priests' wrath.

"Because I'm afraid I'll love the child too much to give it up when it's born."

"Maybe that's Gods' plan for you," Gamino offers.

"It's not," Emily argues tearfully. Even now, her hands instinctively cover her abdomen in defence.

"And what about the father? Could he offer the child a life?"

"No," she answers. "He called me a liar even though he's the only boy I've been with."

"I have met many like you but you are the first brazen enough to inform me of this sin before committing it," Gamino says sadly. "If you come to me seeking approval, I can't grant it. I cannot abide this.

"I don't know what advice you expected when I am sure you are aware of the Church's stance on such acts, a stance I agree with and enforce." The lump returns to her throat as her closed eyes fill with water, threatening to spill through her lashes. She can't find any words to defend herself, not to him. She's about to rise out of shame yet his next words stop her. "If you go through with this, you will not be welcome in this congregation." Pause. "Nor will anyone who helps you."

Her eyes snap at the threat yet she holds her position so not to alert Matthew behind her sitting silently in the pews. "No one is to blame but me; my sin, not theirs'."

"Your selfishness has led to this, yet you refuse to accept the consequences. Think of how your actions affect others," Gamino answers her. "I am thinking of their conscience than their spiritual guidance. Taking a life sacrifices part of your life, evil festers in its' place. You think you're strong enough to fight the darkness which accompanies it, but can your accomplice?"

This time Emily doesn't hesitate to stand and she stiffly backs away from the confessional, her eyes barely adjust to the change in light when she turns to Matthew. She knows he can read the anguish on her face. She was willing to sacrifice her own peace of mind, there wasn't much to begin with anyway, but she couldn't risk his insightful, kind heart.

His eyes shift over his shoulder, hardening as they do. She holds her breath and her stance as he faces off with Father Gamino. After a long moment, Matthew reaches out a hand to her without looking away from the priest. She hesitates as she realises it's shaking, his whole body is. He's angry. She finally takes his hand when he shakes it at her, making her decision for her. He grips her fingers tight and steps protectively to her as he guides her out of the church. As they step out into the street, Emily hopes she won't sacrifice Matthew.


	6. Chapter 6

Part Six

They didn't go far after leaving the confession, Matthew led the way into a small cloister at the side of the church. They were drawn to the centre where Emily sank to the floor in front of the large fountain, resting her back against the stone wall of the basin. Her hands pick at the moss growing through the stones which make up the path. She had yet to say a word, she didn't need to, Matthew had heard Gamino's threat regardless of the door veiling his section of the confessional. She tried to placate him but she had never seen him this angry, this stubborn. She can't bear to see his face like that so she stares down into her lap as Matthew paces in front of her.

"He can't just ban you from the church," he seethes; they're the first words she's been able to hear clearly through his angry mutterings since she relayed what Gamino declared. Of course, she worried about the implications if the priest were to try to turn her away with her mother but it was the least of her worries. Matthew had gone on the defensive, raging about his mentor's decision.

"I think he did," she explains wearily. "Or he will if I go through with it."

"No, he can't. He should offer you penance," Matthew argues.

"I'm not worried about that Matthew," Emily tries again. She doesn't want to set him off again, but she needs to explain the rest of Gamino's threat. "I can't let you help me anymore."

He scoffs, screws up his face, dismissing her words with a tiny shake of his head. "I don't care what he thinks Emily, he's not going to scare me away."

"Matthew…" Emily breathes out but he doesn't seem to hear her.

"He always preaches about helping others, especially if they're alone," he rambles. Her responding flinch goes unseen by him as he continues. "Protecting the innocent," he mocks with an Italian accent.

"He's doing that Matthew," Emily points out, louder this time. Her friend stops pacing and faces her, waiting for her to explain her reasoning. She flicks the moss off her nails and then moves her hand to cover her stomach to draw his attention. "The one who doesn't have a choice in any of this."

He deflates at that and slumps on the ground next to her with a sigh. His hand reaches out, fingers touching hers tentatively to unfurl them gently, inching his own beneath hers till he was holding her hand. They sit quietly for a moment, listening to the fountain drip quietly into the basin below. Sounds of the city drift in over the top of the cloisters, softening as they reach her ears. Emily lifts her eyes from their joined hands to take in the small courtyard, finally able to appreciate the seclusion it offers. An oasis in the middle of the city, almost tranquil, beautiful in its' peacefulness. She had been too distraught to notice the angels at the side of the entrance as they walked through it, as if placed there to welcome them. Her lips lift at the sight of them now. She lets her gaze drift over the warm coloured cloisters which enclose the area, shielding it from the outside world. Young trees growing from the raised grass lawn sections bordering the stone paths offer shade to the open-air centre from the high sun. Luckily for them, no one else needed to use the small space.

"Have you changed your mind?" Matthew asks quietly.

"No." Despite his threats, Gamino confirmed her resolution. He was right. She was selfish. Too selfish to bring a child into this world. It was better this way, she was sure of it now.

"Then it's the right thing to do."

"You don't believe that," Emily tells him softly. Matthew's anger gives way to guilt.

"I think this is more 'right' than what he said. I think you'll be a great mom," Matthew says. "Someday."

She's thought about it more in the last few days than she ever has. Usually her thoughts were fleeting and evoked by others thinking about the same. She would like to be a mother.

Someday.

But after the last few days, she's not sure it'll be a reality for her. She doesn't dwell on the thought, she can mourn when it becomes her reality. There's still a chance it won't.

"You know, a kid with your eyes and smile would be great, but we both know you're not ready."

"Do you think our parents were ready for us?" Emily asks with a tiny smile and Matthew rewards her with a chuckle.

"Mine were," he says through his laughter. "I was scheduled to arrive, part of their grand career plan to have cute offspring they could bring out to charm others to support their perfect family image. Then I started talking," he smirks.

Emily laughs with him. "Me too," she agrees, not wanting to dwell on the state of her parents' relationship. She barely spared them or the divorce a thought since finding out she is pregnant. Her mother will be back in a matter of days. She's worried Elizabeth will know the moment she looks at her. "Except they dragged me across half the world, country to country."

"Mine did too. We would never have met if they hadn't," Matthew muses.

"Guess that's one good thing, huh?"

"I like to think so," Matthew shrugs with a sad smile.

They're quiet again for a moment before Emily whispers, "If you help me, you won't be allowed back either."

"I'd like to see him try to stop me," Matthew murmurs with a soft growl.

"You're willing to risk it? For me?" She questions. He stares back at her, his certainty never wavering. "You love your faith, you can't give it up for me."

"I'm not, if I have to practice somewhere else I will. If it happens, it happens. I'll deal with the consequences," he shrugs. "I believe this is the right thing to do." He pauses. "I have to admit, before I believed it was wrong. I never understood how or why anyone could do this but I know you," he frowns, troubled. "You're not a bad person and you wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't the right thing for you or the baby. I know you never meant for any of this to happen and you're hurting over this. It's not like you're unaffected by this, you are." Matthew glances down at their entwined hands, his expression morphing to guilt. "I was naïve, I guess, I always assumed women who did this had no conscience. I didn't think about what they would go through, how they felt. Till now."

Emily stares at him, unable to speak for a few seconds, she wants to see some flicker in his steady gaze, something which tells her he's lying, something that will give her a reason to leave him, force him to leave her. She doesn't. As usual Matthew's telling her the truth, even revealing his youthful gullibility due to inexperience rather than malice. She was guilty of the same. At least he wasn't closed minded enough to see when he was wrong. And though it may be selfish, she's glad she hasn't found a reason to push another person away. She doesn't want to know what it feels like to be truly alone.

"You're a good guy," she tells him finally with a squeeze of his hand. She shifts slightly and rests her head lightly on his shoulder.

His free hand reaches for his back pack which had been discarded to the floor, digging through it for a piece of yellow paper at the bottom. "I found this, thought it might help," he says placing it in his lap.

She unfolds the torn paper, realising it is a page from the phone book. In the middle is an advert for a medical clinic just outside the city. She looks up at him in surprise. "Do they…?"

"I called, they said they do but you have to make the appointment," Matthew says.

"But what about my age? They won't do it without a guardians' permission."

"Thought of that too," Matthew says tossing a small card the size of a credit card at her. She turns it over in her fingers, finding a small picture of herself looking back at her with another name and date of birth beside it. Though she has nothing to compare it to, it looks viable.

"A fake ID?" Emily questions.

"Johnny and I have a friend," he dismisses uncomfortably as he flips open his wallet and shows her his own. "Unless you reconsidered talking to your mom or trying your luck to get the Henchman to sign off on it, it's probably the only way."

"Probably," Emily agrees, looking at the ID. Another lie, she notes before stuffing it in her bag with the piece of paper. She wonders how many more lies she will have to tell before this is all over.

…

The next day starts much like the day before; Emily gets out of bed after another sleepless night, engages in a staring contest in the mirror before spending twenty minutes hunched over the toilet bowl, heaving and retching. After, she gargles water in her mouth, spits it in the bowl before flushing away the evidence and brushing her teeth for longer than normal. She still tastes the bile in her mouth as she stomps downstairs. She attempts to breeze into the kitchen but no one seems to notice her façade, either that or they don't care and they're used to her mood swings to think anything of it. The door swings shut behind her and she stops sharply as she's confronted by Charles' back.

At the sound of the door, he faces her. She quickly looks away, still not used to the disappointed worry that has taken residence in his eyes since she refused to tell him what's wrong. She's more upset than ashamed that he's respecting the boundary she gave him. Part of her, the insecure child she tries so hard to hide from everyone, wants him to fight back against it because she wanted to know someone cared enough to, wants someone to protect her from all of this, craving any kind of parental affection after being side lined by her parents' careers. He's shown that time and time again since coming to work for her mother, he's the first to see through the tantrums she threw, definitely the first to trust her.

"Emily," he greets amiably. "I was just coming to get you, are you ready to go?"

"Uh, yeah, I just wanted some toast before I left," she stammers out. A ghost of a smile flitters across his face, disappearing quickly as he reaches behind him to pass her the plate of buttered toast that was on the counter behind him. She flashes him a smile in thanks and takes a slice, biting a corner as they share a small impasse.

"You feeling better?" Charles questions, carefully eyeing her though she hears the hope in his tone.

"Not really, but I should try to eat something, right?" He's appeased by her answer but she can see the questions in his eyes.

Truth is, she feels better. Not physically, she still felt weak after throwing up several times a day. Her relief began after phoning the clinic the night before and arranging an appointment for the following day. She spoke to the secretary about the procedure, more at ease now she had more information about what will happen. The act is still daunting for her and she's not sure about the assessment the doctor will give her before performing the abortion but she's taking action rather than being indecisive. She considers telling him about the abortion, beg him to sign the consent form and his silence after but she knows how devoted he is to her mother and doesn't want to burden him with keeping secrets from her when it would go against his moral code.

Instead she gives him the cover story she and Matthew discussed. "Um, tomorrow the school is taking us Bracciano, it's part of this history project I'm doing with Matthew about the Castello Orsini-Odescalchi. I forgot to mention it, but you don't need to pick me up because they'll drop me off in the evening."

Charles' forehead folds briefly and she knows he doesn't believe her story. His frown doesn't last long, it's gone before she realizes it, but it'll be an image that will stick with her as she internally admonishes herself throughout the day. She thinks he's about to refuse, insist he'll collect her from school as usual or ring the school to check her story. He does neither. "Fine, you'll be home in the evening?"

Emily is torn between relief and disappointment. Maybe she is just an assignment to him after all. Maybe he doesn't care enough to question her lies after all and her heart aches. She can't say anything to regain his trust, so she forces another her lie from her lips. "Eight o'clock at the latest."

 **Just a quick note, I'll be changing the rating with the next chapter. Any thoughts?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author Note – WARNING, PLEASE READ - spoilers for** _ **Demonology**_ **as there is a small part of this chapter taken directly from one of the flashback scenes. There are some details about a medical (pill, not surgical) abortion so I've changed the rating of the story accordingly. It's NOT graphic but IF YOU DON'T AGREE WITH OR DON'T THINK YOU CAN READ IT, PLEASE SKIP THIS CHAPTER AND REJOIN ME FOR PART EIGHT. Also, I have tried to translate some of the conversation into Italian with the English in brackets after.**

Part Seven

As soon as the bell rings for lunch, it takes everything in Emily not to bolt from her seat. She's been watching the clock all morning, both hands moving too slowly for her. She pushes through her classmates, ignoring the snide looks they shoot her way. Emily ducks through the crowd in the hallway, weaving from side to side where the other pupils open naturally, till she suddenly looks up and meets Matthews' eyes over their heads. He smiles lightly and beckons her with a bob of his head. She sighs in relief and quickly moves toward him only to falter when she sees Johnny beside him facing the opposite direction. She pushes forward at Matthews' renewed bob. Johnny is still his friend and she will never ask him to choose. She won't force the situation. The prospect of any time spent with the boy who took her virginity troubles her, once out of embarrassment, now because he doesn't trust her. She's a teenager who wanted to behave and be treated like an adult, be older before she's ready, with all the insecurities of a child. She's paying a price with her relationships with those close to her. She doesn't mind if she's lost Johnny, if he cared more about her maybe their talk would have ended differently. She doesn't blame him for the way he treated her after, they each had their reasons that night. She can be civil if Johnny is with her. She can learn to be anyway, pretending is another form of lying, and she's getting good at lying. It would be easy to push away any insecurities she has because she knows beneath his attitude he is as scared as she is even if she is the only one who can admit it. At least he isn't letting it affect his friendship with Matthew.

"You ready?" Matthew asks snapping her out of her reverie and causes Johnny to turn around out of curiosity.

She blinks once. Twice. And meets Matthews' eyes with another blink and a nod. She adjusts the strap of the bag on her shoulder and slides her gaze to the boy next to him, finding it harder to hold his gaze she offers him a meagre nod to gauge his reaction. He stares back, unflinching but not as cold as a few days before.

"Emily," he says simply tucking the cigarette he'd been rolling behind his ear. She eyes it for a split second, knowing he wouldn't be stupid enough to smoke anything other than tobacco at school. "You guys skipping again?" He questions looking between them.

"Not much to do around here," Matthew quips when Emily says nothing. She smiles when Johnny barks out a laugh; it doesn't reach her eyes and she stops when Johnny notices it.

"Guess not," Johnny says as they fall into step behind the last of the other students pushing their way through the hall to get outside.

Emily squints as the sunlight shines in her eyes but she quickly adjusts to the change in light. None of them say anything as they make their way toward the gate, slipping out with the other students leaving for lunch. Johnny lights his cigarette as soon as they pass through, offering it to Matthew after taking a drag. Matthew takes it from Johnny without a word and Johnny pulls out his tobacco pouch to roll another. Matthew eyes her but doesn't offer the cigarette as he would have days before. Instead his gaze is more meaningful as he moves forward to wait at the bus stop, compelling Emily to pause when Johnny finishes rolling.

"Something's going on with him," Johnny says as around the cigarette as he lifts his lighter. He rolls his thumb quickly and the spark catches the end. The embers glow orange as he draws in the smoke. He holds it between his index and middle finger as he offers it to her. She shakes her head. "He's pissed about something. I don't know what it is, don't know if it's about what you're going through or not. He won't talk about it."

"You're worried about him?" Emily asks as she tries not to look at their friend.

"He needs to let off some steam," Johnny shrugs nonchalantly but Emily can see the worry in his eyes. He'd known Matthew longer, perhaps he'd seen through the chivalrous façade, seen how this was affecting Matthew beyond his vow to help her. "Look, whatever you're telling him-."

"I'm telling him the truth, you the truth," Emily interrupts earnestly. He waves her off dismissively.

"I'm not going to argue about that, Emily, but this isn't about you or me." Johnny pauses. "Just…Just look out for him."

"You could do it yourself," Emily offers while hoping he turns her down. She needs to focus on what's about to happen, not be distracted by the tension between Johnny and herself.

"It's clear I'm not invited, and I'm not asking to be," Johnny says without sounding bitter. She doesn't contradict him. He sighs quietly and bows his head, unable to hold her gaze. "You're going to do it today?"

"Yeah," Emily replies clearing her throat. Johnny nods uncomfortably. She opens her mouth to explain their plans but he cuts her off.

"I don't want to know the details," he crinkles his nose. "You'll both need to have some fun after, if you're feeling up to it. The party, Saturday," he offers.

"I don't think I will," Emily starts.

"A chance to get absolutely wasted and forget about it, at least for a little while? You'll be jumping at the chance, Emily," Johnny says doubtfully, squinting at her as draws on his cigarette. Then he tries a different tack, with more bite in his tone this time. "Don't do it for you, do it for Matthew, he'll need it more than you."

He doesn't give her a chance to reply as he walks away. She watches him go for a moment as she hears tires screech quietly behind her as a bus pulls into the stop outside the school. She waits till she hears Matthew call her name till she turns around to file onto the bus behind him and other classmates.

They change buses in the city centre for another heading to the southern outskirts. The new bus is crowded and noisy but they don't recognise anyone as she and Matthew huddle together in the back corner while the bus driver navigates the bus around the busy, narrow streets. Matthew looks out the window at passing buildings to see where they are and where they need to ring the bell. Emily takes the time to study him, tries to see what Johnny warned her about. She sees the weariness as he cranes his neck to read a street sign high on a corner building. Beyond that she can see the hard determination set in his eyes. Colder than his stubborn expression, more resigned too. He hides it well but she can see what Johnny saw. There's no doubt he'll keep his promise to her, but she wishes she tried harder to push him away; she doesn't want this on his conscience. She wishes he wasn't so decent to hide his problems from her. She holds her tongue because she knows it's more difficult for him to talk about what's going on in his head. She holds her tongue because he'll leave if she doesn't. She holds her tongue because she doesn't want to be alone. Selfish, but true.

Emily doesn't promise herself to change after this afternoon; it'll be another lie and she can't afford many more. She promises that she'll always be there when Matthew needs her even if he doesn't think he needs her.

Suddenly Matthew twists his head then reaches past her for the bell. Then he's ushering her off the bus before she can get her bearings. They stand on the street corner as the bus pulls away to reveal the clinic on the other side of the road.

Emily sighs as she stares at the sign across the street, everything else blends into the background as she reads it over and over not quite comprehending their meaning. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and wraps her arms around her torso. Her fingers hurt as they dig into her sides; she's gnawed her nails so low they would bleed if she bit them any further.

"You need to change," Matthew says, cutting through her thoughts.

"What?" Emily asks looking down at her clothes, then realises the answer as she sees her uniform. "You do too," she says with a pointed glance.

Matthew looks at his watch. "We've got some time till your appointment," he tells her and leads her into a café behind them to get a drink and change in the bathrooms.

Fifteen minutes later they walk through the entrance only to pause in the doorway to cast a cautious look over the waiting room. It isn't overflowing, a few people sit huddled together, a few women sit by themselves but none of them pay any heed to Emily or Matthew as they enter. Instead of staring, mostly because she's scared of being caught, Emily turns her gaze to the walls and the posters in Italian from various support and counselling groups as well as the family planning clinic, she doesn't spare them more than a glance, unwilling to retain any information. After a moment, the receptionist clears her throat making Emily do a half turn to face her.

"Ciao," the young woman behind the counter greets warmly. "Hai un appuntamento?" (Do you have an appointment?)

Emily nods and steps towards her. "Sì, il mio nome è Laura Fields," (Yes, my name is...) As the receptionist searches her records, Emily slides the fake ID across the desk to confirm her identity. The woman picks it up with a quirked eyebrow and for a split-second Emily expects to be called out, instead the woman offers a small smile, comforting and knowing. She slides a clipboard and a pen across to Emily and tells her how to fill the forms on it. "Accomodatevi e li darà al medico quando sei chiamato." (Take a seat and give them to the doctor when you're called)

"Grazie," Emily mumbles as she heads over to the chairs with Matthew trailing behind her. She drops her bag on the floor and uses her foot to push it under her chair.

Matthew sits next to her and doesn't say anything as she fills in her medical history. She then reads the information about what will happen during the procedure. She'll have to talk to the doctor about the termination, be offered the services of a counsellor, this time she takes note of the phone number on the leaflet. Then she'll have to undergo some tests before being given two pills to take, a couple of hours apart. Flipping over the page she finds the consent form, she reads it twice before signing her fake name at the bottom, her hand feeling odd as she writes the name it hasn't gotten used to yet. She feels rather than sees him begin to fidget. She looks at him, surprised by how restless he is. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he lies. Then he meets her eyes sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm not sure if I should ask if you want me to come with you or if you want me to wait here."

Emily doesn't know what to say, she hasn't thought about it. For the past forty-eight hours she's tried to keep focused on the present rather than the future or how it'll play out. She hasn't thought of the procedure since the brief overview she was given when booking the appointment, nor has she thought of whether she wanted anyone with her during it, whether she'd be allowed. She glances around the waiting room, looks at the family whispering amongst themselves then back to Matthew. "Ask me again when my name is called," she tells him.

Her words appease him and he settles back in his seat, seemingly content for the time being. Maybe she should go in by herself, save Matthew further anguish. She wants to tell him she's strong enough to do it by herself; wants to show him how his friendship has kept her going. Yet she feels powerless even with a small amount of anonymity the fake ID has given her. No one knows who she is, who her mother is. She has never felt more alone despite Matthew's unwavering presence and support, he may be able to empathise with her but he doesn't know what's going on in her head.

"You know," Matthew whispers into her ear. "Father Gamino can't tell anyone what you said in confession. If he wants to enforce his threat, he'd be breaking his vow with the confession. It's a part of Catholic law."

Emily rears back, blinking at him in confusion as she registers his words. Matthew's frown lasts a fraction of a second but Emily sees it and notes the steely glint in his eyes. Johnny's words, and Gamino's, come back to her and she wonders what this is costing Matthew. "I don't want to think about it right now. We can talk about it later," Emily tells him. "Somewhere else."

"I just wanted to point out this won't change anything," Matthew replies, his tone soothing rather than cold like it was a moment ago. "I'll prove it to you on Sunday."

"You don't need to prove anything to me Matthew," Emily whispers. "Or anyone else."

But his need to prove his point wasn't for her benefit, she knew that. And she knew he wouldn't listen to her. He chose Gamino as a role model, now he's doubting himself as well. Emily maybe scared of the priest, but he hurt Matthew's belief in himself. While she appreciates everything Matthew is doing for her, she wouldn't have been able to arrange any of this without him, she doesn't want to be his point to prove. The church doesn't mean as much to her as it does to Matthew, it's not been a constant in her upbringing. She appreciates the faith and worship even if she doesn't agree with all aspects.

Before Matthew can think of another argument, the receptionist clears her throat behind them. They look up together and she inclines her head toward the far doorway. They follow her gaze to the doctor at the edge of the waiting room as they repeat the fake name Emily gave. She feels the heat in her face instantly and she gathers her things quickly. She meets Matthew's eyes as she's about to follow the doctor.

"Do you want me to come with you?" He asks loud enough for the doctor to decline if it's not allowed. Emily glances at them and they give a welcoming nod. Matthew follows her without another word.

The doctor leads them into a small consultants' room and closes the door behind them. "Siediti," (Take a seat), she directs them to the chairs in front of her desk. "Voglio solo parlare con te su le ragioni per la cessazione prima di andare fino in fondo." (I just want to talk to you about your reasons for the termination before we go through with it)

Emily hands her the consent forms, swallowing the lump in her throat as she waits for more questions. The doctor looks through the clipboard, making sure the paper work is complete before lifting her head to look at Emily and Matthew. "Laura, Il mio nome è dottore Acconio," (Laura, my name is Doctor Acconio,) Acconio says. "E questo è?" (And this is?) She asks looking to Matthew.

"Matthew," he answers for himself. Acconio nods once and clasps her hands in front of her.

"Lei è il padre?" (Are you the father?)

"No," both Matthew and Emily answer at the same time causing Acconio to look between them.

"E 'un amico," (He's a friend) Emily explains unable to help feeling unnerved under the doctor's scrutiny. "E 'qui per sostenermi." (He's here to support me).

"Questo è perfettamente bene, voglio solo per assicurarsi che non si sente sotto pressione in qualcosa." (That's perfectly fine, I just want to make sure you don't feel pressured into anything). Acconio jotted down something on her pad. "Fa parte del nostro lavoro per essere sicuri di capire cosa accadrà e che ti danno il consenso." (It's part of our job to make sure you understand what will happen and that you give consent)

"Ho letto le forme, so che ci sono due pillole e io sanguinare pesantemente dopo la seconda." (I read the forms, I know there are two pills and I'll bleed heavily after the second) Emily recites from memory and Acconio nods along.

"Vi sentirete anche qualche dolore e crampi," (You will also feel some pain and cramping) the doctor adds. "Ma non è tutto, dobbiamo discutere perché siete qui. Ho bisogno di sentire le tue parole Laura. Ho bisogno di sapere che si vuole fare questo," (But that's not all, we need to discuss why you're here. I need to hear it your words Laura. I need to know you want to do this.) She tacks on gently.

Emily breathes in and can't maintain eye contact as she speaks. "Io non sono in grado di fornire per il bambino, non posso dare loro la vita che meritano. Sono troppo giovane." (I'm not able to provide for the baby, I can't give them the life they deserve. I'm too young.)

Acconio stares at her for a long beat, pen hovering above the pad, assessing her explanation, assessing her. Emily realises it's probably a poor excuse to go through with this, but it was her reason and she consoled herself that it was the truth, one of the few she's held onto. She's not ready at all.

"Non sei il primo a dire che per me Laura e non sarà l'ultima. La gente ha un sacco di motivi, ma è la vostra decisione. Offriamo consulenza dopo, per aiutare l'utente attraverso questo." (You're not the first to say that to me Laura and you won't be the last. People have lots of reasons, but it's your decision. We offer counselling after, to help you through this.) She holds out a business card to Emily, who pockets it quickly. "Non ci resta che fare qualche test prima di dare la prima pillola, se è possibile sdraiarsi sul letto dietro la tenda. Si consiglia un po 'di privacy per questo," (We just have to do some tests before giving you the first pill, if you can lie on the bed behind the curtain. You may want some privacy for this,) Acconio prompts with a nod at Matthew and Emily agrees with a shake of her head. Matthew goes to wait outside while Acconio examines Emily and does the tests she needs to.

Once she leaves, Matthew returns to Emily's side to wait for the results. "Are you okay?" He asks when they're alone.

"I'm scared," she admits looking up at him, her voice quivering.

"It'll be alright," Matthew promises with kind smile.

"Hold my hand," she says rather than asks, holding her hand out to him. He envelopes in both of his, smiling kindly.

"Always," he utters as the door opens and Acconio returns with a paper cup in one hand and a smaller cup in the other. She looks at the teens but says nothing to discourage the contact.

"Ecco il primo tablet," (Here's the first tablet) the doctor says offering the smaller cup to Emily. Emily hesitates then holds her breath as she puts it in her mouth and holds it on her tongue. She takes the water cup and sips till she swallows the pill. "Puoi aspettare qui fino al prossimo tablet, poi si scarica voi," (You can wait in here till the next tablet, then we will discharge you) Acconio tells them before retreating from the room again.

They don't talk much as they wait. Matthew eventually retrieves Emily's copy of Mother Night from her bag and rests beside her on the bed, reading to her quietly, never letting go of her hand. Emily doesn't pay attention to what he's saying, just relaxes with the tone of his voice. After a while, she starts to drift off, slumping against Matthew. She wakes when Matthew nudges her awake when Acconio returns to give her the second pill. The doctor smiles warmly at them.

"Stai bene? Qualsiasi disagio?" (Are you okay? Any discomfort?) She asks Emily, looking closely.

Emily shakes her head. "No."

"Ci sarà dopo questo," (There will be after this one) Acconio reminds her. "Avrete bisogno di pastiglie per il sangue," (You will need pads for the blood).

"Ho un po 'con me," (I have some with me) Emily says taking the pill and water from her.

After swallowing the other pill, Acconio discharges Emily with instructions on what to do if anything goes wrong and more counselling information if she needs it. Emily digests the information, knowing Matthew is doing the same in case she forgets anything. She stuffs the pamphlets into her bag as they get on the bus to return to the city centre. It's quiet as they drive back along the narrow streets. Curling into Matthew's side Emily gazes out of the window at the dwindling sun. One arm lays across her middle as it has since before she discovered she was pregnant. She doesn't feel different yet, as the detachment sets in again. Matthew pulls her close and rests his head on hers.

The bus ride lulls her back to drifting in and out of her daydream till it nears the inner city when the twinges start. She shifts toward Matthew, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her feet on the back of the empty chair in front of her. They continue for a while longer and Emily breathes through them quietly, not making a sound to signal her discomfort. Matthew rings the bell and she almost bolts from her seat, her movement distracting her from any pain.

Once on the pavement, she looks around for the other bus which will take her home but she's disorientated till Matthew redirects her to the right stop. She looks at the timetable to take her mind off the ever-increasing pain in her abdomen. This was normal according to the information Acconio gave her, she reminded herself. She ignores Matthew's keen gaze, wary of any sign of agony. After a few minutes, she gives up on the timetable, the words and numbers blurring into one as she begins to pace the bus stop, grateful they're the only ones waiting. The ache builds steadily, her breathing becoming more laboured as she tries to hold back her tears. She pushes forward, pacing through the stinging pain till she doubles over onto the seat, blacking out as she does.

She comes to as she's being lifted by strong arms. Her head rolls against a shoulder as she hears Matthew talking quickly, not comprehending his words. She blinks, trying to resist the urge to completely shut her eyes again as she's carried along the street. "Where?" She manages to ask.

"I'm taking you home," Charles replies as Matthew opens the car door for him to slide her in. She barely aware of him securing her with a seat belt as Matthew gets in the other side before she blacks out again.

 **I love knowing what you think. Are you still reading? Would you like more?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author Note – I would like to thank those who took the time to review, I love getting feedback, and those followed and favourited the story. Only a few chapters left.**

Part Eight

The next time she comes around she's lying on her quilt on top of her bed. Her eyes feel heavy as they struggle to stay open. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips but it does little to relieve her dry mouth. She rolls her head on her pillow, tries to focus on her night stand till her vision clears. With a limp hand, she reaches out for the glass of water someone put there for her. Her fingertips touch the cool glass but it takes more effort to wrap them around it. When they clasp it, a wave of nausea over comes her and she lies still till it passes, letting go of the glass.

That's when Charles' voice cuts through her foggy thoughts. "Are you the father?"

The question is delivered in a calm and measured tone, low and authoritative; it sounds more dangerous than if Charles asked in a rage. A far cry from the neutral, understanding tone he uses to question Emily when she does something wrong.

"No," Matthew answers and she can hear the fearful concern in his voice.

She ignores the hint of disappointment and regret, mostly because she's annoyed at him for telling Charles about the baby. Thinking about the baby, her hand goes to her tummy. She feels bloated yet drained and empty, just like she does during her period only exaggerated. She swallows her reaction, ashamed by the relief which overcomes her. It quickly gives way to loss and she sublimates that too; she'll grieve when she's alone. She doubts that will happen anytime soon, given how protective Charles and Matthew are. She resists the urge to curl onto her side as she usually does to cope with the pain so she doesn't draw their attention to her just yet. Emily knows she will have to find the energy to intervene soon, this is on her not her friend.

"We're just friends," Matthew adds, echoing her thoughts.

There's a long pause and without being able to lift her head to look at them over the other side of her room Emily has to rely on her muddled thoughts to imagine the evaluating, bordering on intimidating look Charles was probably directing at Matthew. But her mother's security chief releases a weary sigh after a minute.

"What if something went wrong?"

"I called you," Matthew says simply.

With the admission, Emily forces herself to sit up, a groan falling unbidden from her lips draws their attention to her. "It's not his fault Charles," she rasps as he rushes to her side, helping her sit up by propping the pillows behind her.

"How are you feeling?" Charles gently asks as he fusses over her.

"I'm fine," she lies only for him to arch an eyebrow at her. She reaches for the glass again and he hands it to her. She takes a long drink, lets the liquid soothe her parched mouth. "Sore," she amends when replaces the glass on the night stand.

Charles huffs as Matthew cranes his head around him to look at Emily. Seeing his fretful face doesn't make Emily feel better. She wonders what's been said while she was out. It couldn't have lasted long, otherwise Charles would have taken her to hospital or at least summoned a doctor.

"Do you need anything?" Matthew asks.

"You've done enough," Charles seethes.

"Matthew did what I asked him to," Emily defends. "He wanted me to tell you."

Emily can't see all of his face as Charles turns to her friend but Matthew visibly relaxes when the older man nods at him. There's no way Charles has been appeased by that titbit of information, he'll have more questions. She's got a lot of explaining to do and she would rather do it alone than feel suffocated by both of them hovering. "It's getting late, your parents are probably worried about you," she tells Matthew.

Charles takes her cue. "I'll get someone to drive you home," he says walking out of the room.

"I'm not going to leave you Em, not while you're-."

"Not while I'm what?" She asks, her voice rising. She puts it down to the throb in her head. Matthew's taken aback by her outburst, either unable or unsure how to answer. "Why did you call him?"

"You blacked out," he says cautiously. "You were in and out of it. I panicked and called him before an ambulance."

"You didn't have to tell him about the abortion, that was up to me," she argues.

"What if you couldn't?" Matthew retorts angrily. "Charles would've found out if I took you to a hospital."

Her head throbs in sync with the pain in the pit of her stomach and she pinches the bridge of her nose in an attempt to redirect it and regain some control over her feelings. She aches all over and her tolerance level is dwindling quickly. She shouldn't be pissed at Matthew for spilling her secrets, but she is. If he stays much longer, she'll say something she'll regret. And she doesn't want to lose him too.

"Will you just go home?" She asks tiredly while averting her eyes to watch him in the mirror on her wall. "I want to be alone."

Emily sees the anger give way to a troubled look and she expects him to flat out refuse. It won't do any good, Emily is as determined as he is especially in the mood she's in now. She's not above pushing him away so she crosses her fingers and prays he doesn't; she doesn't want to because he's been so kind to her and she'll never have another friend like him.

"Fine," Matthew eventually says with a flat tone she's never heard from him before. Her heart drops as he turns on his heel and opens the door to reveal Charles on the other side with his hand poised to do the same thing.

Matthew hesitates and Charles looks between the teenagers, assessing the tension. He catches Emily's eye in the mirror. He huffs softly at her; the slight reproach more effective than any words as she ducks her head. He finally readdresses her friend he sounds more reassuring, placating than before, "There's someone downstairs who'll take you home. Tell your parents to call me if they want to check out whatever excuse you give them."

"Thanks," Matthew says in surprise and moves past him and down the stairs.

Charles watches him go, waits till he reaches the bottom step and hears the muffled conversation between him and the guard he's arranged to take him home. Once he hears the loud click of the front door closing behind them, Charles re-enters Emily's room and closes the door behind him.

"You didn't need to be so hard on him, he's a good kid," he says as he sits in the chair at the end of her bed.

"How much did you hear?" Emily asks instead answering him or commenting on his quick change of attitude toward Matthew.

"Just the part when you said you want to be alone," Charles replies. "Unfortunately for you, I'm not going to let you off the hook like Matthew did."

Emily sighs at that, refuses to meet his gaze as he stares at her blankly. He'll wait her out if necessary. "What do you want to know?"

"About the father."

"No," Emily refuses.

"You're fifteen, Emily," he declares tiredly. "If some guy took advantage-."

"No one took advantage of anyone," she cuts in. "I'm not going to tell you who he is but he's my age," Emily assures him. "He didn't pressure or force me to have sex with him, I slept with him because I wanted to." She doesn't add anything about other classmates boasting about it or about wanting to fit in.

"I didn't know you have a boyfriend."

"I don't. I didn't do because I want to be his girlfriend either. I did it because I was curious and I trusted him." She steadfastly keeps her head bowed toward her lap. This is embarrassing enough without looking at the man who's more involved in her life than her own father is.

"Did you tell him?"

"Yeah, he didn't want to know," Emily admits. "Before you ask, he isn't holding it over my head either, the only reason it's weird is because I got pregnant."

"He's responsible too," Charles points out and Emily lifts her head to look at him.

"That's why I told him. I didn't want him involved beyond telling him and he was okay with that."

"You let Matthew."

"Only because he insisted on coming to the doctor with me and I kind of blurted it out because I was in shock. He listened," Emily tells him. Charles tilts his head expectantly. "Well, he offered to if I wanted to talk," she amends and he smiles lightly.

"Look," he sighs. "I'm not going lecture you about your friends, or sex and precautions; you seem to have learnt your lesson." He pauses long enough for her to nod. "Your safety is my main priority. It's my job to make sure you know how to stay safe. You took a big risk today and I can't help wondering what could've happened if you hadn't found a legitimate clinic."

She hasn't even considered that. She doesn't know what she would've done if the clinic refused her, how far she would've gone. "Are you angry with me?"

"No," he says easily. "It's not my place to be."

His weary declaration stings as she realises he'll probably never trust her again or treat her as more than his job. She wishes she could tell him she wants it to be but she knows it'll be unwelcome. "I'm sorry."

"Emily, I'm not surprised you were scared enough to hide this," he tells her gently. "I'm disappointed that you thought your mother wouldn't understand or support you if this is what you wanted. You think your mother is that close minded?"

"No," Emily says moving to sit closer to him. "I didn't want her to be ashamed of me."

"That'll never happen," Charles promises.

Emily's doubtful but she doesn't question him. "Mom's moved us around so much because of _her_ career, I didn't want to move because of me."

"She wouldn't be that drastic, she's well aware of how you feel about moving, Emily," he jokes. Emily shoots him a sheepish look. "Do you ever think about the experience you're getting that other kids dream off?"

"Not enough," Emily admits. "I appreciate it, I do, but I want to stick around long enough for people to stop calling me the 'new girl' or to be in a class photo."

"Your mother understands, she may not tell you but she does."

"I'd rather hear that from her." The quip escapes her before she can stop it.

"And sometimes you need to think of how important your mother's work is," comes his blunt reply without missing a beat. "It's important for relations with other governments and our people overseas. She's worked hard to be even considered for these assignments let alone get them. Do you know how difficult it is for women in politics? Or the military?" His respect for her mother is clear in his voice as he makes his point. "It may seem like it's all about her but it's not. Her work now will help you in the future. I'm not talking about using her connections or whatever, but making it easier for women to be accepted in fields which are typically male controlled."

"I guess," Emily shrugs lamely after considering his point.

"Well, give her a little credit," Charles says sternly. "Because if something ever happened to you, she'd give it up in a heartbeat."

"Are you going to tell her?"

"One of us has to," Charles tells her with raised eyebrows, his choice clear. "She called this afternoon after school finished, she wanted to talk to you but I told her about the school trip you were supposed to be on. She's taking the red eye flight from DC on Saturday night and she'll be back before you wake up on Sunday."

"Can you do it?" Emily asks. "I'll talk to her after, I just can't tell her."

…..

Saturday drags for Emily. She doesn't venture far from her room during the day, only to the kitchen to get breakfast and lunch, then to the garden in the afternoon where she catches up on the reading she has to do for her English homework. Charles checks on her more regularly than usual but he's busy preparing for her mother's return that night so they don't have much time to talk. She's grateful otherwise she'd be tempted to ask him what he was going to say to her mother. She doesn't want to think about the ensuing conversation. If she had her way, they'd pretend it never happened like they do with a lot of things. She's also grateful none of the other staff have taken it upon themselves to ask her about the night before.

She feels better, the headache and queasiness are completely gone and the bleeding has almost stopped. She uses the quiet day to think about the baby, remembers reading in one of the pamphlets that it was natural to grieve. She feels empty but doesn't regret her decision, she wouldn't have been able to cope, she wasn't ready to grow up and be accountable for another human being. Although she does wish she'll be able to appreciate feeling a child grow inside of her at some point in her future.

She expects Matthew to call and check on her but he doesn't. She feels awful for not calling him too, but she needs time alone. She thinks of her sweet friend who made her feel cared for and loved. He didn't deserve her cold attitude. It's early evening when she approaches Charles, clearing her throat as he reads through her mother's itinerary for the hundredth time. He looks up, annoyed at having been disturbed but it dissipates quickly when he realises it's her.

"Are you okay Emily?"

"Yeah, I, uh wanted to go out to talk to Matthew, he deserves an apology for the way I spoke to him."

"He does but it's getting late and your mother-."

"Won't be back till morning," she reminds him. She can understand why he doesn't want to let her out but she doesn't want to chance second guessing herself. "He deserves more than a phone call Charles. Please, I'll be back in a couple of hours, I promise."

"If you're not home by nine, I'm coming to find you," he relents.

She smiles at him and can't help slipping her arms around him for a quick hug. He's surprised by her display of affection and it takes him a beat to return it, patting her shoulder stiffly. Then she's pulling away from him, saving them both from further embarrassment. "Thank you," Emily says as she rushes out the door before he can change his mind.

She goes to his parents' house only to be told that he went out with Johnny. Her first thought is to go to his but then she remembers the party Johnny was so insistent about during the week and starts walking in the direction of their other classmates' house who was home alone for the weekend. She hears the music half way down the street and she rolls her eyes as she sees other kids from her class sitting in front of the house, drawing the neighbours' attention to the party. The party's not going to last long if they keep it up. Not that Emily intends to stay; she may feel better but she's not up for a party. She's going to apologise then leave.

Walking up to the house she approaches one of the girls who's in her English class. "Have you seen Matthew?"

To her surprise, the girl laughs. "Yeah, he's in the backyard, completely trashed."

Thankfully the girl goes back to talking to the others and fails to notice Emily's reaction as she walks along the side of the house to the back garden. It's busier than the front and she realises it's not just kids from their school as she pushes through a group of people she doesn't recognise. She looks around for Matthew or Johnny or someone she knows who can point her in the right direction. Unfortunately, no one helps her out and she spends five minutes searching the garden till she hears someone calling her name above the loud music.

"Emily!"

She turns her head and sees Matthew standing up from where he was sitting in front of the shed. "Hi," Emily says approaching Matthew sheepishly. He squints with a goofy smile. Before she can think about whether now is the right time, the right place, she launches into her apology. "I sorry about yesterday, I shouldn't have treated you that way. You did the right thing."

"Did I? Did we?" He mutters mostly to himself and Emily strains to hear him. Suddenly he rears back with a startled expression as if just remembering what happened the day before and his goofy grin is quickly replaced by a frown. "Do you ever think about other people?" Matthew sneers while gesturing at her with a half empty bottle of beer.

"Matthew?" Emily questions quietly and steps closer to him to get a better look at him. The girl out front was right. He's drunk. His eyes are bleary and struggle to focus. Emily glances around and notes the heads beginning to turn in their direction. "You're drunk," she states quietly when he sways toward her and she gets a whiff of his breath. He's been drinking for a while after all.

"I am," he declares unaware of how loud he is. A few people snicker but he doesn't hear them. "Do you know why I got drunk the first time we met?" Emily decides it's best just to go along with it and shakes her head. Not that Matthew notices, he carries on relentless. "I wanted to impress you, I thought you were cute. I think you're cute," he amends as if an afterthought while her heart twists, wishing she, knows she hasn't, misheard him. He's going to regret this in the morning. "But I was the good guy, the one that waited and _he,_ " he draws it out with another gesture, this time toward the house, toward Johnny. "He, he kissed you first. Now I'll only be your friend."

"You don't have to be," Emily offers only partly to placate him to save him from embarrassment, wishing they were anywhere else, wishing they were alone, wishing he was sober. She wishes he'd told her how he felt before Johnny made a move on her, she wishes she waited for Matthew instead diving head first when Johnny showed any interest in her.

"NO!" Matthew barks and her heart drops but she resists the urge to run away. "No, no, but it's okay because I'll always be your friend. I'll always hold your hand," he's bitter as he says it and she knows it's the drink talking but it hurts more than anything else has.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's going on out here?" Johnny's voice suddenly booms over the loud music as the crowd parts to let him approach them. Emily knows he's been drinking but he's more coherent than Matthew. He smirks as he hooks his arm around Matthew's neck when he's close enough. To her surprise, Matthew returns the one-armed hug, his anger from seconds ago seemingly forgotten. Johnny redirects his attention to the small crowd gathered around them. "Let's move it along people, nothing to see."

"He's drunk, I'm going to take him home," Emily tells him as she moves to pull Matthew away.

"Party's just getting started," Johnny argues but lets Emily to slip under Matthew's other arm. "He just needs to let loose," he says reaching into his pocket and pulling out a tiny bag of white powder. "And I've got just the thing."


	9. Chapter 9

Part Nine

Three soft taps on the door filter through her unconsciousness and she blinks drowsily as she rolls onto her side to face her bedroom door. Her eyes flick to her alarm clock. Eight in the morning, far too early. She makes no sound to acknowledge the knocker and another three knocks sound through her room, louder this time. She sighs quietly, eyeing the door with indecision. Apparently, whoever is intent on disturbing her has waited long enough because the handle turns, metal grinding lightly against metal as the lock clicks and the door cracks open. Emily closes her eyes before they can enter but she recognises the faint smell of perfume which was applied hours ago, the soft padding of heels against her carpet as her mother tip toes into the room stopping close to her bed. Emily refuses to reopen her eyes as she senses her mothers' gaze on her; she doesn't want to see any recrimination, any shame directed towards her right now.

"Quit faking Emily," Elizabeth tells her warmly, the mirth in her voice surprising Emily.

Emily cracks one eye warily while screwing up her nose in annoyance and tries to burrow deeper into the comforter. Her mother laughs lightly and before Emily can protest Elizabeth slips off her shoes and squeezes onto the small space Emily has left between herself and the edge of the mattress. Her arms encircle her stubborn daughter who only puts up a mild objection before relaxing into her mother's embrace.

"Indulge me," Elizabeth says, a mixture of playfulness, which Emily's not used to, and firmness, which she is. "I've always wanted to do this when you're sick."

"You've never tried to do this," Emily grumbles unwilling to broach the accusation of being 'sick', unsure what her mother means by it.

"You would never let me," her mother counters as she squeezes her arms to emphasize her point rather than relish it. "Besides, you never let yourself be sick."

Emily tilts her chin to look her mother in the eye, a long appraising look which goes both ways. "Neither do you," Emily says eventually before settling against her again. She looks down toward her mother's hands clasped over her arm. "You took your ring off," she observes.

Elizabeth hums in agreement and moves her fingers self-consciously without loosening her grip. "It was time," she says neutrally. Emily nods against her.

Her mother has a strange way of acknowledging problems while being covert when dealing them. Maybe it comes from being in politics, Emily thinks cynically. Whatever it is, Emily knows she's like that too. She hates talking about things that are wrong, especially something personal, she'd rather deal with or avoid it. This is no different. Elizabeth won't acknowledge anything Charles has said without Emily saying it first. She's missed her.

Minutes pass and neither say anything only listen to the ticking clock, comforting each other. Emily tries to tell herself it's not just emotional; Emily's still exhausted after the last week and Elizabeth probably hasn't slept, she can't sleep on planes even on night flights.

"Charles said you came home before your curfew last night. First time for everything," Elizabeth breaks the silence.

Emily stiffens for a second, knowing it's a question without being a question. But she won't take the prompt.

"I wasn't feeling too good," Emily says. She won't tell her mother about Johnny offering her cocaine, or how she refused and tried to convince Matthew to come home with her. Or how he refused to leave but still coherent enough to get her to agree to meet him at church in the morning. Or how she glanced over her shoulder as she was walking out the door to see Matthew bending down to snort the line from the table with Johnny standing over him, egging him on.

Emily shivers slightly at the memory and Elizabeth soothes her by rubbing her hand gently over her shoulder, murmuring reassuringly, without knowing the real reason why. This'll be as close as she'll ever get to turning back time to feel like a child again and allows her mother to comfort her. She tries to draw out the moment. She feels safe and warm. Protected. Like a child should when their mother comforts them. She doubts she'll know what her mother's feeling right now. She feels like she caught glimpses of it when she cradled her stomach in the past week, natural and shielding, but she presumes it pales in comparison to actually holding your child. The impulse to ask, to confront, is sudden and goes against every other instinct telling her to keep her mouth shut yet she can't fight it.

"Did Charles talk to you?" She asks quietly. Her fingers curl into the blankets, tightly pulling it around her, cocooning her protectively from her mothers' answer.

Elizabeth's chin moves against her head. Emily stays fast, she won't look at her mother. After a moment, she feels Elizabeth compose herself and tighten her grip on Emily. "He did," she confirms. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Emily answers simply. Physically, she does. Emotionally, she's drained. She's relieved too. Elizabeth knows and that's what's important.

"You should have rung me Emily," her mother chides gently. "I know it doesn't seem like it sometimes but you can tell me anything. I'll always answer my phone for you."

"I know," Emily accepts meekly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her mother waits a moment, continuing when Emily doesn't answer. "Bear in mind we _will_ talk about it but we don't have to this minute if you're not feeling up to it."

Emily lifts her head to plant her chin on her mothers' chest; she hoped they would avoid this conversation. Elizabeth was serious, Emily could see it in her eyes. "I can't ignore this Emily, it's not like you missed curfew or anything else you've been busted for lately."

"I know Mom, but not yet."

"I'm not angry about anything Emily," Elizabeth assures her. "You're a teenager and I knew this would happen one day. I didn't expect you to get pregnant, but I would never be angry with you because of it."

"You're not? I didn't let you down?"

"Oh Emily, of course not," Elizabeth promises. "I let you down because you didn't think you could come to me."

"I'm glad you're home," Emily replies tucking herself into her mother and Elizabeth squeezes her gently, kissing her on the brow.

Elizabeth's lips pause and the loving peck changes into a sigh against Emily's skin. Emily recognises it, she's heard it dozens of times before, and steels herself. "I need to talk to you about that."

"We're moving," Emily declares softly. They've had this talk before, though her mother has never shied away from telling or tried to soften the blow. It's easier for Emily to accept it this time, which surprises her, she's never welcomed it. She's been dreading it for days, as a punishment for her bad judgement and countless other things her mind has conjured up. In the end, it's a relief. The emotional upheaval has taken its toll on her and she wants a fresh start.

"Not because of you, I promise," her mother rushes to assure. She sighs again. "Your father wants you closer. It's part of the custody agreement."

Emily frowns; her father never insisted she be near him when her parents first separated, not even during holidays, something that upset Elizabeth more than the separation did. Emily hasn't spoken to her father in months and this decision comes out of the blue. Her mother never shifted the blame in the past, she's always been forthcoming with her reasons and Emily doubts she will change now.

With Emily's silence, Elizabeth gently continues her explanation, "We always said we wanted you to finish your education in the States, definitely attend college there. We talked and thought it would be easier for you to settle if you finished high school there too."

Emily draws her lower lip between her teeth, biting enough to feel a little pain. Her mother's reasoning sounds rehearsed and off to Emily. She wants to believe it's one big coincidence; the timing was too close to comfort for Emily. She doesn't have the energy to fight her mother and she doesn't want to. Not after last night. "What about your assignment?"

"I'm going to be based in DC for a while," Elizabeth explains quickly. "If I have to travel for work, you don't have to come with me unless you want to."

Emily digests the information and without sounding too eager, she asks, "When do we have to go?"

"Not till summer," Elizabeth promises. "It'll give you a chance to say goodbye to your friends."

It sounds more like an offer than an order, making her wonder whether Elizabeth would let them to stay if she asked. She appreciates the opportunity to prepare though; usually Emily knew after all the arrangements were made, usually the last to know because her reaction was most volatile. "Okay," she agrees craning her head to look at her mother.

Elizabeth only lets her mask slip to show a fraction of surprise before brushing her lips against Emily's forehead. They lie there for a few minutes more before Emily's stomach rumbles. Elizabeth chuckles, "Breakfast?"

Emily wants nothing more than to ask her mother for toast then return to bed for the rest of the day but she has plans. "I said I'd meet Matthew before church."

She expects Elizabeth to invite herself, she doesn't. "At least eat something before you go."

"You're not coming?" Emily confirms.

Elizabeth shakes her head affectionately but Emily doesn't miss her mother self-consciously rubbing her fingers again. "I'm going to have breakfast then sleep, I just wanted to see you first."

"I missed you too Mom," Emily rolls her eyes as Elizabeth kisses her forehead again with a chuckle.

An hour later, after eating scrambled egg and toast with her mother and getting dressed, Charles drives Emily into town to meet Matthew. He weaves in and out of heavy traffic as Emily sits anxiously in the back seat, lifting her head nervously to see around the passenger seat to look at the car clock. Her knee begins to bounce as they stop behind a large truck. Emily huffs and scoots over the seat to behind Charles to look around it. She can see the church up the street, as well as the long line of cars leading up to it with people stopping to let people out.

"Ugh," she grumbles, slumping back against the seat.

"I can't go any faster Emily," Charles says to her frustration. She glares at his smirk in the rear-view mirror. After a moment, his smirk smooths into a thin line. "Are you sure you want to go?"

She doesn't want to go but it's important to Matthew and she owes it to him. Not that she'd admit it to Charles; she never told him about the party when she snuck through the front door and he was still preparing for her mother's return. She needs to apologise for abandoning him. He'd been so drunk and she couldn't convince him to leave when Johnny was encouraging him to stay. He scared her last night, more insistent, erratic and with looser inhibitions he said things she wasn't ready to deal with so she bolted. She was used to him being the sensible one. His hangover would be brutal without the drugs; she has no idea how he'll be this morning especially if he remembers any of their conversation.

"I promised Matthew," she explains.

She glances out the window again to see the truck still hasn't moved. She does notice Matthew's mother getting out of her car just ahead of it, dragging a bleary-eyed Matthew out of the back door. Matthew's father joins them a moment later, taking the lead with his wife while Matthew trails behind, his pace slower and less confident than normal. Emily opens the door quickly and is out before Charles can stop her.

"Emily!" The security chief calls as he tries to follow her.

Emily spares him a glance over her shoulder to see him with one foot out of the car as she reaches the pavement. "Matthew's right there," she calls, holding her hand up to stop him from getting out of the car while trying not to draw attention to her in the busy street. "Don't wait for me."

Charles frowns at her but the car behind his sounds their horn and he has no choice but to duck back into the car as the traffic begins to move. She watches him go before turning her attention to the pavement where Matthew is waiting for her. Ahead of him, Emily sees his parents pause too; his mother looks like she's about to back track and talk to them, more specifically Emily who she's glaring at. Matthew's father intervenes by placing a hand on his wife's elbow and directs her towards the rest of the congregation making their way into the church. Emily slows her approach, unsure why his mother is angry at her this time. She cautiously meets Matthew's gaze and he responds with an awkward quirk of his lips.

"Hi," she says as stops in front of him. His lips widen to form a tight smile as he winces. "How's your head?"

Matthew huffs out a laugh. "Painful," he says. He clears his throat and reaches out to grab her when a passer-by is about to push into her as they walk past. He's not quick enough and she stumbles forward, braces herself on his forearms as she rights herself and throws a glance at the man who pushed her who was apologising in Italian as he rushed toward the church.

Straightening, she doesn't step back from Matthew though she does drop her hands from his arms. "Your mom pissed?"

"Isn't she always?" Matthew quips in return. "I'm sorry, she probably thinks you were with me."

"I was," Emily tentatively points out, wondering if he forgot seeing her the night before. The flush in his cheeks is all the answer she needs. "I should've stayed or at least tried harder to get you to come home."

Matthew shakes his head. "I'm glad you didn't," he sighs, not unkindly just honest but Emily feels the pang in her chest. "It got messy and I can't remember some of it," Matthew clarifies when he sees he's hurt her. He opens his mouth a few times, hesitating as he tries to think of how to explain his behaviour. "I needed to clear my head."

"Did you?"

"No," he scoffs. "I woke up feeling ten times worse this morning."

"What was it like?" Emily asks out of curiosity. Not that she wanted to try it but seeing it used so freely by her classmates she feels left out being the only who didn't experience it. She had been too worried about Matthew at the time to think about it.

"Powerful," Matthew says automatically. "Like nothing mattered."

"You enjoyed it?"

Her friend pauses. "I enjoyed not thinking for a while." He assesses her for a moment, squinting at her in the morning sunlight.

"I remember what I said, Em."

"You do?"

"Yeah, the rest of the evening is a little fuzzy but I remember what we said. I'm sorry my timing sucks, especially when I'm drunk."

"Did you mean it?" She asks without trying to sound too hopeful; her mother's announcement changed things.

"Yeah and I still do but everything's changed," comes his regretful response. "We've changed."

Emily's heart drops and tears prick her eyes. She bows her head toward the floor so he doesn't see them. His crooked fingers move into her line of vision and to tip her chin but she rears back before he can touch her. He backs off instantly, his hands held up.

"I don't mean to make you cry Em," Matthew tells her softly. "I'm not explaining myself very well, am I?"

"No," she shakes her head.

Matthew swallows. "A few days ago, I wanted to be like him," he gestures vaguely in the direction of the church without looking that way. "I thought he was a _good_ guy."

"You are a good guy Matthew," Emily promises him. "Better than he'll ever be."

He shrugs, unable to accept or believe the compliment as usual. "As soon as he said those things to you, I questioned why I looked up to him in the first place, questioned myself."

"Don't ever do that," she orders. "You did nothing wrong."

"I always used to think he was different from his congregation, but he judged you on one thing without knowing you. I don't want to ever be like that."

"I'm sorry for the other night; you were right to call Charles. I should never have put you in that position, you've been nothing but kind to me and I treated you like crap." She doesn't add that he's only true friend she's ever known, the first person besides her family to make her feel loved, to feel worth the effort.

"You were frightened and I know you didn't mean it," Matthew shrugs trying to play it off.

"Still, I appreciate everything you've done for me this week." On impulse, she steps into his personal space, slips her arms around his waist and hugs him. It takes him a second to return it, his arms sliding around her, his head pressing against her. "No one's ever done that for me."

"You would've done the same for me," Charles says into her ear before pulling back. Emily nods once, choked by his confidence in her. "Did you talk to your mom? Charles?"

"Yeah, this morning," Emily tells him with a bob of her head. She takes a deep breath. "They were understanding. Actually, they were pretty great about it, not that I'll ever admit that to them," she adds with a hint of a smile.

Matthew smiles with her. "That's great Emily."

"But we're moving back to America," she declares and his face falls.

"Because of the baby?"

"My dad wants me there," Emily explains. "We won't leave till summer."

"That's not much of a consolation Emily," Matthew counters.

"But it's more time than I've ever before. Gives me time to figure out how to say goodbye when I really don't want to." She goes to wipe the tear threatening to escape from her eye but he gets there first. His hand lingers on her cheek and hers covers it. She meets his eyes and sees the sheen of tears there too.

"We'll stay in touch," Matthew promises with difficulty.

It fills Emily with warmth and hope; she's never been able to before, always been too agitated to think about it. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll always be your friend Emily."

The church bells start to ring, signalling the start of the service. They step apart as they look toward the church, the last few people filing through the doors. "We don't have to go," Emily says more to herself than Matthew. "We can just sit outside; your parents probably won't notice."

"They will but I didn't ask you here to prove a point to Gamino or you, it was to prove a point to me," he replies without looking at her.

That's all she needs to know and they start walking toward the church together. As they reach the entrance, Matthew reaches for her hand. Their fingers intertwine out of habit. She feels his strength, his warmth. She feels his love.

THE END

 **Author Note – That's where I'm leaving this story, I always meant for this to be a fill in for** _ **Demonology**_ **. I urge you to watch it if you haven't already, it's heart breaking in all the right ways. Thank you all for reading, hope you enjoyed. If you have a spare moment, let me know what you think either by review or send me a PM if you don't want to leave a public comment. Any feedback is welcome or if you have any questions, just ask.**


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